


Not the Model Boy of the Village

by Donna_Immaculata



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-22
Updated: 2011-12-22
Packaged: 2017-10-27 20:09:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 27,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/299579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Donna_Immaculata/pseuds/Donna_Immaculata
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After witnessing a murder in a graveyard, Sirius and Remus are forced to reconsider their loyalties to Dumbledore and to come up with a plan to keep Harry out of Azkaban.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not the Model Boy of the Village

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [Big Bang Blackout](http://bigbangblackout.livejournal.com): a _Tom Sawyer_ pastiche, set during OotP. The concept was developed before the release of HBP, hence not canon-compliant.  
>  Some short passages are directly quoted from _Tom Sawyer_ by Mark Twain. Quotations are indicated by italics.

_Truth is mighty and will prevail. There is nothing the matter with this, except that it ain't so._   
Mark Twain, Mark Twain's Notebooks

 

"Sirius!"

No answer.

"Sirius!"

No answer.

"Where's the man gone this time? He's worse to keep an eye on than Fred and George together!"

Molly Weasley wiped her hands on her flowered robe and made for the back door. "Well, if he's gone into the garden again..." She pulled the door open and stepped outside. "He knows he mustn't be seen. He knows he's got to stay indoors. He only does it to try my patience..." Hands on her hips, Molly narrowed her eyes and scanned the garden for a sign of Sirius. It wasn't an easy task. Neglected for some ten years, the old, spacious garden was overgrown with rose bushes, rhododendrons and brooms. Molly sighed in resignation, but in that moment, the Wild Gooseberry bush gave a violent shudder and a startled quack, before it began flapping its large leaves in exactly the manner its name suggested. Frowning, Molly moved closer and peeked around the corner - and stood eye to fierce eye with an enormous beast. "Oh goodness me!" She jumped back in surprise and pressed her hand to her chest. "You gave me quite a fright, Buckbeak."

The Hippogriff regarded her coolly.

"You’d better come inside," Molly said, grasping for the Hippogriff's tether. "It's not safe out here."

Pulling the reluctant Buckbeak back inside, Molly failed to notice the large black shadow slinking into the house behind her back with the swift and silent movement of a person used to not being seen.

Once inside, the black shape blurred, stretched, and where a second ago a dog had been, stood now a tall, dark-haired man with startlingly pale grey eyes and a morose expression on his face. He brushed dirt and leaves off himself and folded his arms across his chest, waiting.

Muttering under her breath, Molly entered the house pulling a very disgruntled Hippogriff behind her. She stopped when her gaze fell on the man.

"There you are, Sirius!" she said. "I've been looking for you."

"You've found me now. What can I do for you?"

"Nothing, really," Molly was eyeing him suspiciously. "Where have you been?"

"I've been reading," said Sirius, holding up a book as a proof. "Why? Do I have to inform you about my every step?"

"You have been known to act rashly on many occasions!" bristled Molly. "It’s for your own good that you have to stay in the house! So don't act as though we were punishing you."

Sirius' expression showed all too clearly that that was exactly what he was thinking, but he held his tongue.

"And bring the Hippogriff back to his room," Molly added. "It's not safe for it, either."

"He has to stretch his wings from time to time," Sirius said through gritted teeth.

"He is on the run from the Ministry." Molly's angry tone matched his. "It is for his own good, Sirius. Can't you understand that?"

Sirius snatched the tether from her hand. "Fine."

He stalked back towards his room, when Molly's voice reached him. "Sirius!"

Sirius sighed. "What is it?"

"There are dry leaves on your... backside." She gripped the hem of his robe, pointing. "You’ve been in the garden!"

"Oh for heaven's sake!" Sirius exploded, but in that moment the doorbell went, rousing Mrs Black from her slumber. She went into hysterics instantly, and Sirius took the chance to disappear upstairs, leaving Molly to deal with his mother as well as the visitor, who, judging by the cold silence in lieu of a greeting, must be Snape.

~*~

Sirius pushed the door shut and let himself drop on the bed. Lying on his front, he nestled his face into his crossed arms and remained still for a long time. The light nudge against his side elicited merely a soft grunt, but as the nudger persisted, Sirius turned his head and smiled, slowly. "'ullo Buckbeak," he said huskily. "I'm sorry they've locked you in. Believe me."

The Hippogriff pushed against his shoulder and Sirius shifted aside, making room on the large bed. Buckbeak leapt onto the bed and curled up, nuzzling his face against Sirius' shoulder. Sirius smiled. "Want me to read to you? Hm?" He rolled over onto his back and flattened one hand against the Hippogriff's silky neck. "It's the story of a Muggle boy who creates a lot of mischief and gets into a lot of trouble," he explained. "But in the end, he finds a huge treasure and becomes a hero. I used to love it as a kid. I was reading it in secret, under the covers so Mother wouldn't find me out." He opened the book and began in a steady voice, "The summer evenings were long. It was not dark yet. Presently, Tom checked his whistle. A stranger was before him - a boy a shade larger than himself. A newcomer of any age or either sex was an impressive curiosity in the poor little village of St. Petersburg. This boy was well dressed too - well dressed on a week day." Sirius broke off and lowered the book, frowning. Footsteps were approaching. They halted before the door to Buckbeak's room, but no knock came and so Sirius shrugged and continued reading, but no longer aloud.

When the knock came at last, he ignored it. But in the next moment, the door was pushed opened to reveal Severus Snape, dressed impeccably in his black robes, his cloak billowing, his black shoes shiny, his lip curled in disgust.

"Black."

"Snape."

"What do you want?"

"I've been sent by your nanny," Snape sneered. "She seems to think you need to be reminded about what Dumbledore said." Sirius huffed in irritation and, pressing his advantage, Snape smirked and continued: "Your, ah, friends seem to think you might be tempted to leave your mother's house to go looking for adventures. For a reason I am unable to fathom, they want to prevent your getting yourself in danger. And again, I have been asked to explain to you how very unwise such a move would be. Of course." Sirius began to wonder how long Snape could keep up the sneer without getting a cramp in his lip. "We both know that you prefer the safety of your family abode to-"

"Don't you dare," Sirius said very softly.

"Dare what?"

"Dare step over this threshold."

"What would you do now if I did?" Snape's eyes were narrowed maliciously, and Sirius could see his wand hand tense. "Are you going to hex me, Black? Without a wand?"

"I can lick you."

Snape froze. "What?"

Sirius bared his teeth in a nasty grin. "I dare you to step over that, and I'll lick you till you can't stand up."

As he watched Snape change colour rapidly, going from sallow to parchment-white to purplish, Sirius thought with some satisfaction that Remus' method of delivering unexpected blows in an absurdly polite tone certainly held its advantages. Snape turned on his heel, slamming the door shut, and Sirius fell back onto the bed, howling with laughter. When it finally subsided and he had mitigated the indignant Buckbeak, who didn't like having his neck feathers tugged, Sirius took up the book that had slid from his lap and went back to reading, chuckling merrily every now and then at the memory of Snape's shocked face.

"The new boy stepped over promptly, and said," Sirius read.

"'Now you said you'd do it, now let's see you do it.'

‘Don't you crowd me, now; you better look out.'"

"You better look out, Snape," muttered Sirius under his breath. "You better look out."

~*~

Sirius' happy mood carried him through the meeting that night, until Snape, who didn't have anything new to report, decided to have his revenge and informed Dumbledore about Sirius' afternoon trip outside. Molly pursed her lips, Bill rolled his eyes and Dumbledore looked at him sadly. Sirius wanted to scream. He hissed that he wasn't a child and that nobody had cared for his safety when he had been on the run for two years, only to see Dumbledore's gaze turn even sadder. In an instant, he was the schoolboy again, standing before the Headmaster's tribunal, reprimanded but not punished, and he squirmed in his seat, muttering an apology. He met Snape's gaze across the table. The man was smirking knowingly. Sirius glared.

He could never stand up to Dumbledore's kindness, but that wouldn't stop him from getting back at Snape. In his pocket was a small silver box he had found in his mother's chest of drawers when had de-Darkified the room for Buckbeak. He had kept it especially for Snape, saving it for a special occasion. It had come tonight.

"Last day of school tomorrow, eh, Severus?" he said softly when the meeting was over and everyone leaving. "Looking forward to terrorising your students one last time?"

"My teaching methods are none of your concern," said Snape haughtily.

"How you're treating my godson is very much my concern. Let me tell you one thing, Snape: I will not tolerate you abusing him as you do. I will tear your heart out and feed it to Buckbeak if I ever hear you are tormenting Harry."

"That, Black, is the most preposterous threat I've ever heard in my life. Feed my heart to the Hippogriff? Indeed! What next? Going to send a bogeyman after me?"

"No. But maybe a werewolf." Sirius smirked.

Snape's cold eyes glittered in the dimness of the entrance hall. "Yes, that would be more like you. Hiding away in your mother's house and letting your friends do the dirty work."

"You watch out, Snape!" snarled Sirius. "Or I’ll have a go at your dirty tongue first!"

"You’d better watch your tongue, Black." Snape whipped out his wand. "It will be my pleasure to turn it into a slug."

"Sirius. Severus. There you are!" came Dumbledore's voice from the stairs. "Are you leaving now, too, Severus? Splendid! We can go together. Good night, Sirius."

Wordlessly, Snape swirled around and followed the headmaster. Sirius thrust his hand into his pocket and pulled out the small box. He flipped it open with his thumb and hurled the contents after Snape. The faint silvery cloud barely reached him, and Sirius shrugged and threw the box at Snape's head. It bounced off the greasy hair and rolled behind the troll-leg umbrella stand.

"Black!" Snape roared, his wand quivering at Sirius. "Are you insane? Oh, what a stupid question to ask," he added acidly. Dumbledore had put his hand on Snape's shoulder and was pulling him bodily to the door, giving Sirius one long exasperated look.

The horrible shriek from his right told Sirius that Snape had managed to rouse his mother, and he didn't linger. With an angry "Oh, shut up, you disgusting old hag!" he turned around and ran up the stairs, leaving someone else to deal with Mrs Black's temper. He was in a fairly good mood; his mother's cosmetics had been well preserved, and the glittering powder in the silver box had looked as good as new. It was barely visible now, but was enchanted to increase in intensity and colour when the bearer was in a room full of people. If Snape didn't wash his hair and kept it in overnight (Sirius rather counted on it), his greasy head would be surrounded by a magnificent halo, gleaming and sparkling in all colours of the rainbow in class the next morning. As revenges went, Sirius thought, that was a rather good one.

~*~

"Saturday morning was come, and all the summer world was bright and fresh, and brimming with life." Sirius laid the book aside and sighed. Saturday morning had come indeed, but there was no song in his heart and no music issued at his lips. Molly had made him promise that he would prepare three of the bedrooms for her children, whom she and Arthur would bring later that day. Sirius was rather looking forward to the company, but the prospect of rummaging through old, mouldy cupboards and wardrobes and searching in dark corners for long-forgotten Dark artefacts wasn't appealing. He didn't want the children to be attacked by Uncle Aldebaran's old pillows or Mother's snake necklace, which had slid from the dresser the other day and disappeared between the floorboards before he could catch it, but he'd rather not be the one to hunt them down. There was still Kreacher, but sending the house-elf after the family heirlooms would be asking for trouble. First, Sirius decided, he would finish the chapter, and then there was still plenty of time to make the rooms fit for their inhabitants.

One hour later, Sirius was on all fours, half-stuck under the huge old-fashioned bed in an old guestroom. His back was killing him, pressed into the hard wood, and his knees were screaming in agony. The shape blurred, and Padfoot slid forward on his stomach, reaching out with a paw. Something hissed.

Padfoot gave a low growl, which didn't have any effect on the... thing. He didn't know what it was, exactly, but he knew he wouldn't leave it in Ginny's future bedroom.

Padfoot's paw made contact with something soft and fluffy, and the thing made the mistake of breaking out to the left, where it ran straight into Padfoot's other paw. The dog barked in triumph and pulled back, wagging his tail. In the next moment, he gave a high-pitched whine and let go, shifting smoothly into a man. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!" Sirius yelled, pressing his hand to his mouth and licking the wound. "You little fucker, I'll have you!"

With a swift motion derived from many months of rat hunting, he dashed forward and stepped down on a fluffy tail. A little grey toy bunny was scrabbling frantically in a desperate attempt to get away. When its non-existent brain caught up with the fact that it was trapped, it turned its head, flashing absurdly long, pointy teeth at Sirius. Teeth covered in his blood.

Sirius lifted his foot only to bring it back down with a vengeance. The bunny squealed, twitched and lay still. Sirius stamped down on it again and again, twisting his foot to make sure there was nothing more left than a sad heap of fur and stuffing.

"I hate rodents," Sirius said.

He wondered whether he would find more of Narcissa's old toys. His cousin had loved to put spells on her toys so no-one else could play with them. Narcissa had been surprisingly good at property-marking spells, even as a little girl.

A blood-curdling scream downstairs told him someone was at the door and had made the mistake of ringing the bell. He banged his fist against the painting on his way to the door, shouting at his mother to shut-the-fuck-up, and thrust the door open to let in the Weasleys. A scowling Molly and a flustered Arthur ushered a herd of children inside. Somebody stumbled over the umbrella stand. Somebody else leaned against the wall, causing one of the stuffed house-elf heads to snap viciously at them. All children stood close together, looking around wide-eyed, clearly terrified. Sirius advanced on the painting, his face white, his eyes wild with rage.

"You disgusting old bi- witch, shut up!" he roared. The kids jumped in unison. "Or I will tear you to pieces with my own hands!"

"Come on in, come on in," said Arthur nervously, leading his offspring to the stairs. "Down there, in the kitchen. Your mother will make us a nice cup of tea and you can say hello to Sirius."

Sirius took a deep breath and followed the Weasleys downstairs. They had brought Hermione Granger along. Sirius was introduced to the three kids he hadn't met before, and while Molly made tea and sandwiches, Sirius revelled in the admiration shining from the twins' and Ginny's eyes. Listening to Ron talking to him with all the appearance of an old acquaintance, casually working in phrases like "As you know, Sirius," and "Like we've told you before," Sirius realised just how much he had missed being flaunted.

"So you're not allowed to leave the house?" asked Ron, flabbergasted.

"No."

"But why not? You've been taking care of yourself all the time until now!"

"That's enough, Ron!" cut in Molly. "Sirius is on the run from the Aurors and You-Know-Who. He must not endanger himself." Sirius knew the last bit was directed at him rather than Ron.

"What have you been doing all this time, then?" Ginny asked. Sirius grinned inwardly and scratched Crookshanks' ears. The cat had leapt onto his lap the moment Sirius had sat down and was purring contently.

"Been keeping busy. This house's full of Dark stuff I've got to get rid of."

"Really?" The twins' eyes lit up. "Can we help?"

"Better not," replied Sirius. Oh, this was going better than he had expected. If only Molly... Yes!

"That's quite out of the question!" Molly said shrilly. "That's very dangerous! Fred, George, I don't want to see you anywhere near any Dark artefacts."

"But Mum!"

"That's enough! You've heard me. You will leave it to Sirius."

"But Mum!" said Ron. "We’ve dealt with much more dangerous things than-"

Molly turned to him, eyes blazing. "And you know exactly what I think about your escapades!"

"But Mum! We had to help Harry!"

"That is all very well, but we have now brought you here to keep you safe! You will not do anything dangerous, is that understood?" She looked around at her children.

"Yes, Mum," they mumbled in unison. Sirius noticed that Ginny was the only one who looked at her mother defiantly, while the boys cast down their eyes, cowering in their seats. He grinned. Now, there was a girl after his own heart. He made a mental note to nudge Harry towards her.

It didn't surprise him that, after Molly and Arthur had left, all six children stood in the doorway leading to the master chambers. Sitting at his father's old desk, Sirius had been half-heartedly moving the feather duster around that Molly had provided him with and watching legions of tiny Mincing Mites scurrying across the desktop in a desperate attempt to escape a messy death. Going on a crusade against Dark magic wasn't quite as much fun as some people thought, Sirius thought gloomily. Most of the enchanted things in his mother's household were quite dull and annoying rather than dangerous. He wouldn't mind facing real danger, but there was hardly anything more boring than tackling Doxys and setting up Sstruchi traps and separating enchanted forks from harmless ones.

"Sirius? Can we come in?"

Sirius turned to find the Weasley children plus Hermione clustered around the doorway. "Oh, it's you. I didn't notice."

"What are you doing?" asked Hermione timidly, but Fred (or George?) fell in.

"Can we help? C'mon, Sirius, let us help. Mum's gone to The Burrow, and she won't be back for hours."

"We're not stupid, you know," said George (or Fred?). "We can look after ourselves."

"Is there anything dangerous in this room?" asked Ginny, looking around eagerly.

"You heard what your mother said," Sirius said. "You better go back downstairs and wait in the kitchen. Keep your voices down. And don't touch anything on your way there."

"But Sirius!" Ron sounded positively scandalised. "You know we're not useless! You know all the stuff we helped Harry with!"

"But it is our responsibility, as adults, to keep you away from any danger." Sirius was beginning to wonder whether he was overdoing it when Hermione cut him short.

"You don't even have a wand. You need our help." She waved her wand around. "What if there's a Boggart somewhere?"

"Oh, all right, then," Sirius faltered. "Come in - you can tackle the Mincing Mites, Ron."

"Them? But they don't look very dangerous!"

"Careful!" Sirius gripped Ron's arm. "Don't touch them! Do you know what happens when they crawl over your skin? They lay their eggs there, and-" he rolled up his sleeve and showed the boy his wrist, where angry red blotches were blossoming. "See?"

"Ew! Can't you do anything about it?"

"I've got some potion downstairs. I’ll deal with it later. But now to your task."

Ron eyed the Mincing Mites warily. "What do I do with them?"

"Here, take the duster and swipe them all up. It's enchanted to kill them on contact." Sirius thrust the feather duster into the boy's hand. "Now, as for you lot..."

Half an hour later, Sirius Black stood in the doorway, his arms folded across his chest, and watched the children work. Ron had finished with the desk and was now dusting the shelves like the devil. Hermione was re-shelving books. She was actually the only one who looked as though she was having fun, but it was beyond Sirius what exactly was so enjoyable about taking books off the shelves and putting them back on, in a different order. Ginny struggled with a particularly vicious pillow that had tried to suffocate her (Nature had provided Uncle Aldebaran with ten times the amount of the Blacks' territorial instinct, which had made him put property spells on all his pillows so that he didn't have to share them with his wife at night), and Fred and George were trying to coax out the Sstruchi, melancholy wrinkled little creatures that dwelled in the vicinity of mouse holes and only came out at night to suck out the mice's blood and leave the dry corpses in places no-one would expect them: in empty tea cups, under mattresses and in coat pockets.

"Enjoying yourself?" said a dry, low voice in his ear. Sirius jumped.

"Where the hell did you learn to move soundlessly?" He leaned back and inclined his head towards Remus. "They're having fun."

"Yeah, right." Remus was watching Ginny hex the pillow to pieces. Feathers scattered across the room, each one a pointy little projectile. Ginny narrowed her eyes and started shooting quick hexes at the advancing feathers, blowing them to smithereens in mid-air under the cheers and whoops of Fred and George.

"Did Molly make them do it?" asked Remus, ducking as a feather zoomed by.

"What? No. They wanted to."

"What? They wanted to get rid of inch-thick dust and shelve heavy books by hand? You're kidding. I've never thought these kids would have any interest in household chores."

"Ah, but, you know, they don't know they're doing chores." Sirius turned and tugged Remus' arm. "Come on downstairs. I need a fag and a healing potion, and you can tell me what you've been up to. Fred?" he called across the room. "When you catch the Sstruchi, can you come and fetch me? I’ll have to check out the scrolls in the desk, some of them might be poisoned.

"Poisoned parchment?" Fred said. "Oh, Sirius, can I sort them out? I'll be careful."

Sirius hesitated. He could feel Remus smile.

"All right. But don't touch them. Levitate them to move them around. Here," he threw a small vial into the boy's eager hand. "The poisoned ones will react to the potion. Use only one drop per sheet."

Leaving the boy in a joyful frenzy, Sirius and Remus walked slowly down the stairs. "I am in awe, Sirius. How did you make a bunch of children consent to carrying out the most boring cleaning on earth? Sorting scrolls of parchment, for heaven's sake!"

"In order to make a man or a boy covet a thing, it is only necessary to make the thing difficult to attain," replied Sirius. "If you were a great and wise philosopher like me, you would know that this is a great law of human action."

"Sirius," said Remus, laughing helplessly. "You've been reading again."

"So I have. There's nothing wrong with reading, you know. You should try it one day."

"You should try reading less. You know it only gives you ideas."

"Don't you go complaining about my ideas again. There used to be a time you liked them."

Sirius pushed open the door to the kitchen.

"That was a lifetime ago, Sirius," said Remus, suddenly serious.

"Yeah." Sirius lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply. "It was."

~*~

Sirius eyed the vial in his hand suspiciously. "I hope this stuff won't make it worse."

"What do you need it for?"

Sirius showed him his wrist. The red blotches had wandered up his forearm and across his palm.

“Mincing Mites?" asked Remus. "Nasty little buggers. You’d better do something soon before it spreads further."

"You don't say."

Remus smirked. "I wouldn't use a potion, however, which was brewed Lord knows how many years ago. Unless you want your whole arm to serve as a hatching place for generations of Mincing Mites and be full of poison."

"There're worse fates." Sirius was still holding the vial undecidedly. "It's only parasites."

"You could ask Severus-"

"You could go and hex yourself."

"A spell might help. I think a simple wart-removing spell should do."

"Warts! These aren’t warts! I think I'll give the potion a try."

Sirius uncorked the vial and poured a few drops on his sore flesh, muttering, "Barley-corn, Barley-corn, injun-meal shorts. Spunk water, spunk water, swaller these warts."

"Pardon me?"

"Oh," Sirius grinned, "nothing. Just something I read..."

"I'm sure I don't want to know what sort of literature you've been reading."

"I'm sure I'm not going to tell you. But licking is talked of quite a lot."

"Have some wine." Remus handed Sirius a glass and raised his own in a mock salute. "To the magnificent Order of the Phoenix."

"To the Order." Sirius drained his glass in one go. "More?"

"Quite. What are we drinking to?"

"To Harry," said Sirius quietly.

Remus nodded, his eyes dark and serious. "To Harry."

"I've been reading, too," Remus said after a short silence. "And thinking."

Sirius nodded. "I expected no less."

"Voldemort is not invincible. Doing what he did to Harry, he abandoned his immortality."

"Self-fulfilling prophecy," agreed Sirius darkly. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"I think so." Remus fell silent for a while. "The thing is, Voldemort made Harry his enemy by trying to get rid of him." Knowing that his friend was thinking aloud, Sirius didn't interrupt, watching him with dark-eyed calm. "If Voldemort hadn't tried to kill Harry, not back then when Harry was a baby, not these two or three times later..." He sighed. "Well, Harry was forced into assuming the part of Voldemort's enemy. And by using Harry's blood, Voldemort has bound himself to Harry. He made himself vulnerable. Harry is now the person to kill Voldemort because Voldemort... created the connection between them. Voldemort might be almost immortal, but only as long as the person who gave him life allows it."

"Peter," spat Sirius. "Peter’s another connection." He stared at the opposite wall with unseeing eyes for a few minutes and then, all of a sudden, flung his wine glass across the room where it shattered on the opposite wall. "Fucking hell! If we’d only killed that rat!" His shoulders tense, his jaw set, Sirius heaved a few deep breaths before collapsing onto a chair. He rested his head in his hand. "Remus. Just think of it." Sirius' shoulders began to shake with helpless, desperate laughter. "So many blunders, so many fucking blunders."

"There might be something we can do."

"There’d better be. This... stagnation is killing me."

"Harry's got to kill Voldemort, but we might be able to... increase Voldemort's vulnerability."

"How do you want to do that?"

"Harry and Peter. They are the ones that provided Voldemort's life force. If Peter... if we killed Peter, we would destroy a part of what anchors Voldemort to life."

"I'm all for killing Peter, Remus," Sirius spoke with deadly calm. "If only I could lay my hands on him."

"Yeah, I know there is a weak point in the plan."

"But listen! What about the third part? The father."

"The father is dead already."

"We can still destroy what's left of him."

"Grave robbery, Sirius?"

"If I have to." Sirius gave a short laugh. "Thank God it's only a Muggle."

"Spoken like a true Black."

"No. I mean, there won't be any spells that protect the body. It'll be done at a moment's notice. Find the graveyard, find the grave, get the corpse, destroy the bones. Clean and simple." He looked up and met Remus' gaze. "Whatcha think?"

"Count me in."

~*~

After Remus had left, Sirius stood before his mother's painting, contemplating. She had put a spell on the curtain so that it fell open whenever she was awake. There must be a way to lift the spell, but without a wand, he was helpless. "Maybe I should simply slash it to pieces," Sirius said softly to himself. His mother was glaring at him contemptuously. "I should ask Remus what he thinks."

"That miserable creature that's just left?" Mrs. Black's voice was full of venom. "It takes more than an emaciated excuse of a man to take it up with a Black woman. Speaking of which, my dear son: you look like a sick Muggle yourself."

Sirius' face split in a broad, dog-like grin. He leaned in, bracing his hands on both sides of his mother (she pulled her robe tighter around herself and straightened up in her chair) and said very slowly and clearly, "Remus Lupin, Mother, is a werewolf," and watched with glee as the words sank in.

Her high-pitched cry of rage was music to his ears. She leapt to her feet, spluttering and spitting madly, howling with fury and frustration. Sounds barely human left her mouth in a cloud of spit and foam. Narrow-eyed and cold as death, Sirius leaned back against the opposite wall, watching.

"Unnatural beasts! In my house! Abomination! Filth!" she howled. "How dare you! Befouling my house! Monsters! Subhuman scum...!"

"Watch your tongue, you hag," Sirius barked. He pushed himself off the wall and kicked the bottom of the painting, hard. "Don't you dare insult Remus! He's a better human than all the Blacks put together! And he will be staying in this house, at my invitation! He will get Father's rooms - seeing as yours are already occupied by my Hippogriff!"

Mindless that she was a mere painting, unable to interfere with the real world, Mrs. Black pointed her wand at Sirius, casting curse after futile curse. Sirius doubled-up with mad laughter as the curses flew right through him, crashing into the paintings on the opposite wall.

The sound of the doorbell was almost drowned by the pandemonium raised by Mrs Black. Sirius threw the door open at last - and froze at the sight of Minerva McGonagall's severe face. As his former Transfiguration teacher stepped in, straight-backed and thin-lipped, Sirius instantly felt himself expecting detention and point loss and had to check himself to not start fumbling with his non-existent school tie.

Minerva gave Mrs Black a look of cold fury, and to his great surprise, Sirius saw his mother falter in the middle of her tirade. The curtain slid shut.

Sirius led Minerva (he had to stop himself calling her Professor McGonagall) to the kitchen. In spite of himself, he felt the instinctive guilt of a student who is called in front of a teacher. He caught himself making an internal inventory of his offences.

"Tea, Prof- Minerva?" he asked, in an almost timid tone.

"Yes, please." As he busied himself with the kettle and looked for the cleanest and least chipped cups, she was watching him silently, her grey eyes full of concern. She waited until he sat down and asked quietly, "How are you, Sirius?"

He shrugged, lifting his tea cup to his mouth. "Fine. Free. Clean."

"You don't look it." Her voice was stern, but her eyes held more warmth than Sirius had ever seen in them.

"Which one of the three do I not look like?"

"None."

"Thanks a lot, Headmistress. I do appreciate your honesty."

She shook her head. "Your sarcasm is wasted on me, Sirius. I'm not here to reprimand you. I'm sure you hear it enough from others." Her thin nostrils flared and to his surprise, Sirius realised that she, for one, disapproved of the arrangement under which he was living. "I've brought you something, but I will only give it to you when you get shaved and put on some clothes that don't look as though you've stolen them from a house-elf."

"What is it?"

"A surprise. Now go and smarten yourself up a bit. I haven't got much time."

Sirius considered briefly staying and arpguing - he wouldn't be sent off like a child - but his curiosity and instinctive respect for this teacher's voice made him obey. He checked on the children, whom he had completely forgotten in the excitements of his talk with Remus and the fight with his mother. They had long abandoned their work and from the look of the room, must have launched into a pillow fight with Uncle Aldebaran's remaining pillows.

Clean-shaven, cleanly dressed, his hair disentangled and combed, Sirius hurried back to the kitchen, where he was presented with a real Ollivander wand, fourteen inches, ebony, with a dragon heartstring core. She had selected it herself, Minerva told him, to make sure it would be perfect for transfiguration. Sirius held the wand with trembling fingers, reverently, as though he was afraid it would break. Minerva smiled encouragingly.

"Don't you want to try it?"

Sirius looked up. "This is the first time for years..." he said hoarsely. "This is... even more... even more important than the first time I bought one. I... thank you."

She nodded curtly. "I... well, I hope you will find it suitable and don't do too much mischief with it." They both smiled.

A few minutes after Minerva had left, Sirius had already transfigured the gloomy old kitchen cupboard into a Muggle-style one which he thought very modern but which had been modern twenty years ago when he had first visited Lily's parents' house and whose deep orange colour clashed horribly with the dark burgundy buffet and Rosso Redfern's Refresharator (Sirius remembered how astounded he had been when he had learned that Muggles kept their food cold instead of keeping it fresh. The concept of a refrigerator was simply hilarious). He considered transfiguring the goblets and heavy silver cutlery into their Muggle equivalents, but the temptation to have a go at his father’s beloved bureau was stronger. It soon was replaced by a Muggle desk, light brown with dark brown stripes and plastic drawer handles in a bright orange. He was very much looking forward to seeing the surprise on Remus' face on first entering his new study.

Molly's voice floated from downstairs, announcing dinner. Sirius gave the room one last appraising look and put away his new wand carefully.

There was a flash of pink when he pushed open the kitchen door, and Sirius' gaze locked with a pair of dark, twinkling eyes, framed by impossibly long lashes. He stared, blinked and realised that the eyes belonged to a young woman, whose pale heart-shaped face looked strangely familiar. In the next moment, the woman was plastered to his chest, her arms draped around him and her face burrowed in the crook of his neck. His arms had gone around her of their own accord. Sirius nuzzled his face in silky hair and a fresh scent, revelling in the sensation of a warm, soft female body so close to his. He tightened his embrace around her.

Molly cleared her throat, and the girl in his arms stirred. Sirius let go reluctantly. She pulled back and, smiling up at him, said, "Sirius. Good to see you at last."

"Ditto." He grinned. "I must say I am delighted."  
Her eyes flashed. "Do you know who I am?"

"No idea," Sirius said cheerfully, his eyes roaming freely over her body. Nice and slim, with delightfully firm breasts-

"Sirius!" Molly said.

The girl laughed. "You wouldn't. I was only a little girl when-" She blushed and bit her lip. "When you last saw me," she finished lamely. "I'm your cousin Andromeda's daughter."

"Nymphadora?" Sirius whispered. "My god! You have grown."

The woman grimaced. "Don't call me Nymphadora, Sirius. It's Tonks."

"Tonks?" He laughed. "The Blacks are turning in their graves. A scion of the noble house going by the name of a Muggle. Well done!"

She was an Auror. Andromeda's little girl was an Auror. While he had spent more than a decade of his life rotting away and losing his mind, the girl had grown to pursuit the career he'd had been forced to give up. She was delightful, all life and loveliness, and it was sheer pleasure listening to her, but when he had said good night for the night, Sirius thought he might have preferred not to have met her. He didn't want to investigate the cold lump that had formed in the pit of his stomach, and took up his book again.

"Say, Becky, was you ever engaged?"

"What's that?"

"Why, engaged to be married."

"No."

"Would you like to?"

"I reckon so. I don't know. What is it like?"

"Like? Why, it ain't like anything. You only just tell a boy you won't ever have anybody but him, ever ever ever, and then you kiss, and that's all. Anybody can do it."

Absentmindedly, Sirius threw the last dead rat of Buckbeak's dinner across the room. If only dealing with girls was just as easy in real life. Then again, he had probably forgotten everything about what one was supposed to do with girls. And it wasn't as though he would meet many anyway. Tonks was attractive, but he couldn't ignore the fact that she had gone to Hogwarts in the same year when he had been thrown in Azkaban. There was a lifetime dividing them.

"Fucking hell," Sirius said. "Motherfucking goddamn bitch of a hell."

~*~

There was a knock on the door. Sirius chose to ignore it for the sake of finishing brushing his teeth. By the time he was halfway through shaving, the knocking had turned into continuous rapping and, securing the towel around his hips, he left the bathroom, crossed his bedroom in two long strides and threw open the door.

"What?" he barked.

"Sorry!" Tonks pushed herself off the doorframe. "I only wanted to take you out for brunch." Her gaze travelled down his body and Sirius shifted self-consciously. He was well aware of his ribs poking out and his skin being a patchwork of old scars. Tonks’ expression, however, did not so much as flicker, and he was grateful.

"Brunch?"

"A late breakfast."

"Just... give me a sec."

Sirius closed the door and breathed in deeply. Wiping the shaving foam off his face with the back of his hand, he let the towel drop carelessly to the floor and reached for his clothes. Where had the dark blue robe gone? It would bring out the colour of his eyes.

~*~

"I’m not supposed to leave the house, you know. So I don't get tempted to do anything stupid." He rolled his eyes.

Tonks shrugged. "I won't tell. And," she grinned, "I have heard you don't care much for rules anyway."

Sirius took a sip of his coffee. "Molly, eh?"

"Actually, it was Remus. He talks about you a lot."

"That's all right, then. He would give you a correct account."

"I thought he was exaggerating a bit at times..."

"Never. One thing you've got to know about Remus is he never gets carried away. Very sensible, is Remus."

"I kinda noticed. So." She looked up with a broad smile. "How do you like this place?"

"Very... Muggle, isn't it?" Sirius looked around. "Do you go to Muggle places a lot?"

"Not really. Not lately, anyway. Dad used to take me out to Muggle cinemas and restaurants a lot. But that was before-" She broke off and looked down at her hands.

Sirius nodded, his eyes very dark. "Thanks for taking me out," he said after a brief pause. "I don't get out a lot." His voice carried only the tiniest trace of sarcasm.

"You're welcome. I thought you'd appreciate the change."

"I don't think I’ll get the chance to leave the house a lot in future, though. Not with Molly living at Headquarters. She'll go ballistic when she finds out. And Dumbledore will-"

"Look concerned?"

"Exactly."

"What have you been doing, then, in the house?"

"Cleaning. Reading. Thinking."

"Anything worth mentioning?"

"Thinking?"

"Reading."

"A Muggle novel. About the adventures of a young mischief-maker."

"Sounds titillating."

"He's just about to seduce the girl of his dreams."

"How’s he going on about it?"

"Oh, he simply asks her whether she's ever been engaged."

"Has she?"

"No. And he offers to show her what it's all about."

"What is it all about, Sirius?"

"Choosing each other for games at parties. Never getting married to anyone apart from each other. Saying ‘I love you'. Kissing."

"Does she accept?"

"Oh yes. He’s very persuasive. Although it takes some extra persuasion before she says she loves him. The kissing’s no problem at all after that."

"Yeah, I can see that."

She was stirring her coffee, her eyes veiled by her long lashes. Sirius flashed a grin.

"Can you, now? I would have thought the games bit might seem a bit fishy."

"Oh no. There's nothing wrong with games."

"Even though you don't know what their outcome might be?"

"Especially if I don't know what the outcome might be."

After Azkaban, it had become very important for Sirius to be aware of his actions and to cherish the few good memories he had been able to accumulate during the last three years. He waited, therefore, for the pounding in his ears to subside and his breathing to even out before he - very consciously - made the decision to lean across the table, cover Tonks' small hand with his own and press his lips to hers. He kept his eyes open and saw hers flutter shut, and then it became impossible to separate the single sensations that flooded over him. Her lips parted and his tongue slid forward before he could control it, but for once, the loss of control over his body and his actions didn't make him panic. His tongue swept over Tonks' and she let out a soft sigh which he swallowed greedily.

Sirius pulled back and opened his eyes. He hadn't notice he had closed them.

Tonks was watching him from liquid eyes. "I think we should go back," she said in a small voice.

Sirius cleared his throat. "Yeah. Right."

"Before the Polyjuice Potion wears off." She began standing up. "That'd give the Muggles a shock - seeing you change into another person."

"I could go into the bathroom to change."

"Your clothes would rip." Tonks stepped through the door, screening her eyes from the bright sun. "Remus is somewhat shorter than you."

~*~

"Are you sure that's a good idea, Sirius?"

"Pardon me?" Sirius said distractedly, his eyes never leaving the page. Aunt Polly took him by the usual handle - his ear - and cracked his head soundly with her thimble.

"Sirius!" Molly said shrilly. "Listen when I'm talking to you."

"I am listening, Pol- Molly," Sirius said, his eyes still fixed on the page. Molly snatched the book from his hands.

"I am sorry to interrupt your reading, but we've got to discuss it," Molly said firmly. "Do you really think it's a good idea?"

"What's a good idea?" Sirius asked politely. He took a sip of wine and suppressed the urge to light a cigarette.

"Inviting him... Mr Lupin to come and stay here. I know he's your friend!" She said quickly as Sirius opened his mouth to speak. "And he seems a nice enough person, but, there is, you know..." She faltered under Sirius' icy gaze.

"Yes?" he prompted, his voice absurdly calm.

"There are children staying in this house," she said in a loud whisper. "Sirius! Don't you think it's a bit risky? Having a... a... werewolf," she managed at last, "living under your roof?"

Sirius reached for his box of cigarettes and lit one. It was his house after all, and if he wanted to retain his calm during this conversation, he needed something to steady his nerves.

"Remus lived at Hogwarts for many months, and I haven't heard of his ravaging anyone there," he pointed out at last. "Surely, that is indicator enough that he doesn't run berserk every full moon?"

"Accidents happen, Sirius," Molly said primly, watching the smoke rising from his cigarette with disdain.

"This is very true. No-one is aware of that more than I am, believe me."

Molly took a deep breath. "What if the potion doesn't work? What if he forgets to take it? What if one of the children stumbles over him, during full moon?"

"Remus is going to move in," Sirius said, his voice rising threateningly. "This is still my house, and I am free to invite whomever I choose!"

"But not a werewolf!" shrieked Molly. "A Dark creature! Sirius! What are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking that you are interfering in things that are none of your business!" Sirius banged his fist on the table. "Remus has been my friend for most of my life, and I'm not going to shut him out of my house now!"

"Yes," said Molly. "But he didn't remember being your friend when he let you rot in Azkaban, did he?"

Sirius rose to his feet, knocking his chair to the ground. "Don't you dare insult Remus!" he snarled. "He is moving in! Tomorrow, if I can convince him!"

"Fine!" Molly yelled. "Fine! You’ll see how long we'll be staying!"

"I didn't invite you!" Sirius threw the door open with a loud bang. "You can leave anytime!"

The kitchen door slammed shut. Sirius stormed up the narrow stairs, muttering insults and curses under his breath. His wand, clutched tightly in his fist, shot angry red sparks in the air, causing the occupants of the portraits hanging in the staircase to cower in their frames.

He rounded the corner at the top of the stairs...and bumped into something warm and solid.

Someone.

"Sirius." Remus' hoarse voice tickled his ear, vibrating with almost-amusement. "Where're you running to?" He took a step back and looked Sirius in the eye. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." Sirius shook his head vehemently and then lowered it, hiding behind his hair to escape Remus' steady gaze. "I'm fine. Do you wanna move in?"

"What?"

"Do you want to move in?" Sirius repeated, more loudly and clearly. "With me?"

"What? Here?"

"Yeah, I know it's not the ideal home, but it's the best I can offer." He locked his gaze with Remus'. "I need you here," he said earnestly. "I'm going mad without you. This place is getting to me."

His face very calm and set, Remus nodded slowly. "Yes. Of course I'll move in with you." He shot Sirius a short grin before adding, "Did you talk it through with the others? There aren't many people who'd accept living under one roof with a werewolf."

"Ah, you know the Weasleys." Sirius waved a hand dismissively. "The most tolerant bunch in the wizarding world." His face carefully blank, he met Remus' gaze evenly, ignoring the quizzical look in his friend's eyes and glad that Remus didn't ask any more questions.

"C'mon then, I'll show you your rooms." Tugging gently on the sleeve of Remus' robe, Sirius pulled him towards the stairs.

"Got it all ready, have you? Didn't so much as contemplate my refusal?"

"Not quite." Sirius led Remus up the stairs and tapped his wand on the heavy wooden door. "Wanted to bribe you with this, if necessary." He draped his arm loosely around Remus' shoulder and pushed him into the study. "What do you think?"

"Oh," said Remus. "Oh, sweet Merlin."

~*~

"We should do it tonight," Remus said some time later, as they shared a bottle of Old Ogden's to inaugurate his new rooms. He glanced at the almost empty bottle at the table and the full glass in his hand and added, "Hmm. Perhaps tomorrow night."

Lying outstretched on the threadbare carpet, Sirius slithered out of his robe and rolled it up to use it as a pillow. The whisky glass, standing on his breastbone, swayed precariously with every breath he took. He was watching the ceiling with lazy eyes. "Mmh," he said. "You're right."

"What about?" asked Remus gently.

"Don't give me that tone, Remus," said Sirius dreamily. "I have been listening to you, you know." Wriggling, he thrust one hand into the bundle of cloth under his head and pulled out a small book. "Bugger was pressing into my skull."

"Are you taking this seriously at all?"

"Remus." In one fluid motion, Sirius rolled over and onto his knees. He put his hands on both arms of the chair Remus was sprawled in and leaned in, his gaze intent. "There is hardly one moment during my waking hours - and most often my sleeping ones, too - which I do not spend thinking about ways to help Harry. Sometimes, I fear my brain will burst under the pressure of the thoughts that are rolling around in it, over and over again. So please, don't question my dedication to Harry. Please?" As Remus didn't stir, he added, "I don't remember what it's like being happy. But this very moment, right now, with you and the whisky and my book," he gestured vaguely, "comes very, very close to my idea of happiness. Let me indulge in this one precious moment, okay? For now."

Watching Remus silently refill their glasses, Sirius shook his head, blinking. "God. I'm so pissed."

"Better make it worthwhile then," said Remus lightly, handing Sirius his glass. "Might as well be sick for a bottle as for a glass tomorrow."

Sirius knocked the whisky down. "I don't get sick." Remus grinned. "What?"

"Oh no, nothing." Pushing Sirius gently to the side, Remus slid down from his chair and sprawled on the carpet. "What're you reading?"

"You're slurring." Sirius grinned.

"'M not."

"Prove it." Sirius handed Remus the book. "Read it to me."

Remus cast him an amused glance. "You're not serious."

"You know the answer to that."

Laughing, Remus rolled onto his back and opened the book. "You've got to tell me where you left off."

"Here." Sirius leafed through the book and pointed. "Just read."

This was a new aspect of the thing. His smartness in the morning had seemed to Tom a good joke before, and very ingenious. It merely looked mean and shabby now. He hung his head and could not think of anything to say for a moment; then he said:

"Auntie, I wish I hadn't done it - but I didn't think."

"Oh, child, you never think. You never think of anything but your own selfishness. You could think to come over here from Jackson's Island in the night to laugh at our troubles, and you could think to fool me with a lie about a dream: but you couldn't ever think to pity us and save us from sorrow."

"Auntie, I know now it was mean, but I didn't mean to be mean; I didn't, honest."

Remus placed the open book on his chest and took another sip of his whisky. "I see," he said.

"You do?"

"Am I slurring, then?"

"Nah," murmured Sirius sleepily. "Mind if I sleep on your bedroom floor?"

"It's still your house."

"But your rooms."

"Be my guest, then." Yawning widely, Remus stretched and rolled onto his side. "But don't leave dog hairs all over the place."

Sirius' sleepy grin widened as his shape blurred and shifted to be replaced by the more compact form of Padfoot, who curled up in a tight ball and gave a doggy sneeze. Remus rose to his feet, swaying slightly. On the way to his bed, he snatched a jug of water from the table and fell, fully clothed, onto the soft cushions. He was asleep even before he hit the mattress.

~*~

"Are you sure we've got it right this time?"

"We've got to get it right some time." Remus worried his lower lip. "There aren't many graveyards left in this region we haven't visited yet."

"We should have asked Harry whether he remembered anything that could help," said Sirius, scanning their surroundings. "It's not an easy task to find one specific Muggle graveyard if all you know is that there's an old house nearby."

"I don't think Harry paid much attention to the landscape that night," replied Remus, illuminating the tombstones with the light from his wand, one after the other. "I'll check the names here and you look over there, okay?" The narrow beam of light danced swiftly from stone to stone, casting narrow shadows behind the graves. Weeds, bushes and vines swayed in the breeze, their leaves whispering to each other. In spite of the sounds of the night, the moaning of the wind in the treetops and the cracking of the tree branches, an unnatural silence reigned in the graveyard, as though the place was shut out from the rest of the world.

"How can you be sure we’re looking in the right part of Britain at all?" Sirius' voice rang with sarcasm. "How do you know the Riddles didn't come from, oh, Wales?"

"I did some research on Voldemort's origins, Sirius. Now stop being tiresome and make yourself useful, all right?"

"I don't like this," Sirius muttered, loudly enough for Remus to hear him. "I don't want to be sneaking around mouldy old graveyards, reading name after name after name, wasting my time... I've wasted enough time during my life. I want to do something!" he shouted, throwing his head back. In an instant, Remus was at his side.

"Shh... Sirius!" He closed his fingers around Sirius' arm. "Are you mad?"

"Funny," Sirius said. "I get asked that a lot lately."

Remus gave a noncommittal snort and was about to turn away when Sirius gripped his sleeve.

"I think you're right this time, though," he breathed.

"How so?" Remus tensed almost imperceptibly, steadying his wand arm.

"Do you hear it'?"

"What?"

"Nothing. There's... nothing where something should be. No voices. No animal voices. As though nothing lived here."

"It's a graveyard, Sirius," pointed out Remus, more out of habit than out of conviction. Sirius shook his head, his pale eyes glinting in the darkness. "Right." Remus said. "We'd better stay together."

A sudden rush of wind stirred up the lifeless elm tree, sending its branches into a frantic dance and mussing Sirius' hair. The wooden cross perched over the grave behind him creaked. "Nox," whispered Remus.

The moment his wand went out, there was a soft popping sound, followed by a loud thud and a hiss. His whole body taut, Sirius didn't move a muscle, all instinct honed on remaining perfectly still in the face of danger. He could feel Remus breathe beside him as their shoulders brushed with each breath they took.

"Now, now, steady there." An amused and very familiar voice reached their ears. Remus' breath hitched and Sirius tightened his grip on his friend's arm. "Arriving by Portkey can push you off balance," continued the newcomer. "Come on, get to your feet - that's right, Harry."

Sirius gave a violent start. Remus gripped him around the wrist and pulled gently. He inclined his head, indicating they should take cover, and Sirius complied, his legs suddenly liquid. As though in slow-motion, they both sank into a deep crouch and slid behind the decaying tombstone.

Sirius' eyes were fixed on the two figures, barely visible, moving in an eerie dance in the shadows of an old monument. Remus' hand on his forearm was meant to steady and calm him, but it only served to increase Sirius' irritation. Even Remus did think he wasn't to be trusted not to act brainlessly. It wasn't as though, all those years back, he had passed his Auror exams on account of his good looks. Aggravated because of his inability to see anything, Sirius turned his head to Remus, mouthing, "What?"

"Stay." Remus indicated the two newcomers with a tilt of his head and then shook his head decisively.

Sirius ground his teeth. Lowering himself onto his hands and knees, he crawled forward a fraction to reach a better viewing angle. From his new position, the figures were outlined against the horizon. There was Harry, moving in a jerky, hesitant manner, casting quick glances over his shoulder, stumbling on every other step, trying to keep up with the tall man, who strode confidently across the graveyard. Sirius didn't need the pointy hat and the long, silver beard to recognise the wizard as Dumbledore.

A thorny branch was slashing across his face with each gust of wind, and his left knee had ended up in a puddle of mud. The mud was squelching with each motion he made. Remus' warm breath tickled his ear. "Shh..."

"What?"

"You're panting."

Sirius' mouth snapped shut. In the next moment, he opened it again. His brain felt numb. He needed the oxygen.

"What's going on?" he whispered, confident that his words would be swallowed by the constantly increasing wind. Remus shook his head.

"Watch!"

Dumbledore now turned around and gripped Harry by the arm. Pulling the boy after himself, he came to a halt in front of a tombstone near the fence. In that moment, the clouds parted and pale moonlight poured over the entire scene, lighting up Dumbledore's beard and illuminating Harry's white face, with black hollows for eyes.

No longer numb, Sirius was overpowered by a surge of tenderness towards his godson and a blind, raging anger at Dumbledore. Beside him, Remus muttered something unintelligible.

"Now, Harry," Dumbledore said, "is this the grave Voldemort used?"

Harry nodded. He looked thin and frail. "What do you want to do now, Professor?" he asked in the pale voice of a sick child. "You can't undo what happened, can you? Because Voldemort is truly alive now, isn't he?"

"No-one's truly alive, Harry, who takes the flesh and bone of other human beings by force to acquire a body," said Dumbledore in that knowing tone of his that made Sirius' hackles rise. "The gift of life is just that - a gift. If ripped from others by force, it turns you into a slave, binds you to the ones you've stolen it from."

"What, are you saying that Voldemort has bound himself to me?" said Harry in a voice laden with both disbelief and disgust. "What does that mean?"

A soft hum of magic thrummed through the humid night air, spreading out sluggishly from the spot where Dumbledore stood and flooding the whole graveyard. When the spell reached him, Sirius shivered at the contact, but it enveloped him gently like warm, oily water and oozed further. "Muggle Repelling Charm," muttered Remus.

"It means, Harry, that you've got the power to summon Lord Voldemort," Dumbledore answered. "Not even the most powerful sorcerer can resist the pull of blood."

"What?" said Harry. "But I can't! I never-"

"Oh yes, you have," Dumbledore sounded almost melancholy now, and as Harry was gaping at him, he pointed his wand at the boy and said, "Confundo!"

Remus gave a sudden shudder, and Sirius smashed to the ground, flat on his front, as the edges of the spell trickled over them. Although he saw the scene quite clearly, and although he knew that it was his duty as a godfather and friend to leap up and run and get Harry out of there, he couldn't quite force himself to process the knowledge and lost a few valuable seconds squirming in the mud. Remus pushed against his shoulder, hard, and with their both wands raised, they hoisted themselves to their knees. Remus' face was set. "We can't let this-"

"Good evening, Tom," Dumbledore's voice floated to them. "We've been expecting you."

~*~

His bald head reflecting the moonlight, his cloak billowing in the wind, his face cold like a stone statue's, Lord Voldemort appeared from the shadows. Sirius froze in his half-kneeling position, one foot already planted firmly on the ground. Remus uttered a series of swearwords under his breath as he tried to free himself from the lingering effects of Dumbledore's spell. Sirius' own bones felt weak and lazy and his brain kept wandering off, unwilling to bend to his will.

"He put a befuddlement charm on Harry!" he managed at last.

"He summoned Voldemort!" Remus whispered back. He swayed slightly, but regained control in the next instant.

"We've got to stop it." Sirius stood up, mindful of remaining hidden behind the bush. "I’ll go this way and-" He broke off at the sound of Voldemort's voice.

"Dumbledore!" the wizard hissed. "Have you come to destroy me? Not even you can kill me now!" The next moment, he stopped dead and his eyes widened as Dumbledore pulled Harry out of the shadows and pushed him forward.

"I am not alone, as you see, Tom," said Dumbledore, almost sadly.

"Potter!" Voldemort's mask-like face contorted. Desperate to get his godson out of there, Sirius ducked, dived into the darkness and moved swiftly through the bushes towards, making towards the group. In that moment, Voldemort raised his hand and with a wide flourish drew a gleaming spiral in the air which, coiling in itself, sank slowly to the ground in a flash of gold and green, shutting Harry and Voldemort inside the circle. As soon as he reached the gleaming border, Sirius was stopped as though he had run into an invisible wall.

"You have given Harry the power to kill you. Now," Dumbledore's voice swelled into a powerful boom, "he is here to fulfil the prophecy!"

Voldemort's eyes darted to Harry's white face and then back to Dumbledore's. Harry's wand arm came up in a sudden movement, and a jet of green light smashed into Voldemort's shield. The wizard had cast a protective spell around himself, which deflected Harry's feeble curse effortlessly. "First time using the Killing Curse, isn't it, Potter," said Voldemort. "I can teach you how to use it properly."

"You killed them! Killed my parents! Killed Cedric!" Harry was yelling at the top of his voice, violent red sparks shooting from the tip of his wand. "I will kill you!"

Horrible, high-pitched laughter split the air as Voldemort continued blocking Harry's curses effortlessly. "Go back to your nursery, boy!" he gloated. "You don't even know how to handle your wand!"

But that wasn't Harry's wand, Sirius realised. Couldn't be. Harry's and Voldemort's wands didn't work against each other. His gaze fell on Dumbledore, who was holding a wand aloft almost hesitantly, as though not sure whether to use it. "He swapped the wands!" Sirius said aloud. "He fucking swapped the wands!"

"Why doesn't Albus do anything?" Sirius hadn't notice Remus' approach; his voice was low and urgent, with an edge of panic Sirius couldn't remember having heard for a long time. "Why has he forced Harry to face Voldemort?"

"Dumbledore's got Harry's wand," Sirius said. "Harry's wand can't fight Voldemort's - they've got the same core."

"Oh my god! Harry's fighting this... this monster with a wand that's not his own? Why doesn't Dumbledore do anything?" Remus repeated, before his own wand came up and prodded the barrier that separated them from Harry and Voldemort. Red-hot sparks shot up his wand and scorched his fingers. "Sirius!" With a soft moan, Remus pulled Sirius' hands from the edge of the spiral, which was still coiling and uncoiling like a giant snake. The palms were sore, covered in thick blisters. "That's powerful boundary magic!"

"Do you think I care," Sirius said with deadly calm. "Do you really think I care?"

"We've got to do something," said Remus. "Sirius. We've got to stop them before he kills Harry!"

"He's playing with him," Sirius continued in the same hollow voice. "He knows Harry's not... not skilled enough to defeat him and that Dumbledore can't do anything."

The two opponents were now circling each other in movements so quick they were almost impossible to follow. Harry, livid and desperate, was screaming with both agony and rage as he hurtled all his feeble curses at Voldemort - Tarantallegra, Petrificus totalus, Expelliarmus - which the wizard blocked almost lazily, laughing and watching Harry squirm, all the while mindful of not turning his back to Dumbledore.

"Stupefy!" cried Harry with what seemed his last ounce of strength. The spell shot from his wand like a bullet and rebounded on the shield Voldemort had summoned to block spells. The red beam of light was thrown back at Harry, hitting him square in the chest, and with a hollow groan, the boy fell down to the ground. Remus gasped, and beside him Sirius slid soundlessly to his knees.

"Is this the best you can do, Dumbledore?" said Voldemort, turning slowly from the boy's lifeless figure to face the other wizard. "You can't reach him here. Now you shall watch as he dies!"

"Never!" shouted Dumbledore, and with a fierce humming sound, a narrow beam of light fired from his wand, connecting with the spiral and winding it up like a fishing line. Voldemort let out a cry of rage. Disentangling himself from the traces of magic that unwound around him, he failed to notice Dumbledore sending off another curse.

"Avada Kedavra!" the old wizard said in a horrible voice, and a high sizzling noise filled the air as a jet of green light shot straight into Voldemort's chest. His eyes widened in shock and the force of the spell sent him stumbling back several steps before he fell to the ground. A dark cloud arose from where he had hit the ground, rising higher in the air, twirling, shooting up higher yet, disappearing quickly in the darkness, with an echo trailing behind. "You can't kill me, Dumbledore! Nobody can but the boy!"

What minutes before had been a magical arena containing the three most powerful wizards in Britain was now a dark patch of damp earth, where an old, weary man crouched over the still figure of a skinny boy. Beside them lay another still figure, around which swirled bluish and green traces of ancient magic.

Sirius and Remus exchanged the most fleeting of glances before, silently and swiftly like jungle cats, they broke through the barrier of vines and magic and made towards the three wizards. But before they stepped out of the shadows of the large monument, they felt a strange sucking sensation as the air before them blurred and Dumbledore and Harry vanished with a soft popping sound.

"Albus Portkeyed them away!" shouted Remus, running towards the lifeless figure on the ground. "He left Voldemort lying here-" His words cut off the moment his eyes fell on the dead man. "Sirius-"

"This is not Voldemort!" Sirius had fallen to his knees and, wrapping the hem of his robe around his hand for protection, he turned the man's face towards himself, illuminating it with his wand. The pale face went in and out of focus like a badly shot wizarding picture, its edges blurred, and Sirius let go as though burned. Shivers ran through the thin body. It was over within a few minutes, and where moments before had lain the lifeless shell that had served as Lord Voldemort's last corporeal domain, was now the corpse of an elderly man with greying hair and defined, handsome features. "Tom Riddle," Remus whispered.

"Fuck!" yelled Sirius. "Fuck!"

There was a loud crack, and Sirius threw himself backwards, just escaping a sharp beam of light. "Aurors!" he gasped at the sight of a dozen dark figures that had Apparated a few yards away. "Go!"

~*~

Sirius staggered to a halt as the force of the impact sent him crashing to the ground. Automatically, he scanned his limbs. All there. Miraculously. He wouldn't have been surprised if he had splinched himself.

Remus stood a few feet away, his face almost white in the pale light of the waning moon. "Sirius-"

"Where's Harry?" Sirius strode past him towards the Hogwarts gate. "I've got to see Harry."

"Sirius. Wait." Remus' thin hand closed around his arm. "Think. What are you going to do?"

"Smash Dumbledore's skull!" Sirius growled viciously. His hand had almost reached the giant handle when Remus tugged sharply, making him stop. Sirius took a deep breath, looking up the distant façade of the castle. The windows seemed to be mocking him, blinking every now and then with the flickering of candles within.

"Would that help?" Remus was panting with the effort of holding Sirius back, but his voice was maddeningly calm. His wand was poking into Sirius' side.

"Remus!" Sirius howled, twirling around and shoving Remus into the wall with a force that made the other man groan. "Don't give me that shit!"

"I want to prevent your doing something stupid again!" Remus shouted back. He pushed off the wall, closing his eyes with the effort of calming himself, and said, "Sirius. I know what Dumbledore did was... unpardonable, but you can't simply storm in there and... and hex him or something. That won't do. If he's got plans for Harry - which he obviously has - he will see them through to the end, and no act of violence on your part can prevent it. If you want to do something for Harry, don't do it by attacking Dumbledore. Come on." He pulled on Sirius' sleeve. "Let's not get in there now. He'll be able to tell that something's wrong."

Sirius was standing very still, his sunken eyes gleaming unhealthily. "I can't," he said quietly. "I haven't got your self-control. I can't just walk away and not do anything. Don't you understand? I've got to know whether Harry's all right."

"And you will. But not here! Not like this." The clouds parted all of a sudden, and moonlight poured over the two men. It illuminated Sirius' features, frozen with determination, and cast deep shadows over Remus' pale face. In the distance, the many towers of Hogwarts castle created inky blue shadows on the ground. The light of the moon was so bright that the castle's windows seemed dark and hollow; the only light now caused by Hagrid’s brightly lit cabin.

"There's nothing we can do right now," Remus said very calmly and clearly. "We must go back to Grimmauld Place and... talk things through. Make a plan."

"Why, Remus," Sirius said in a small voice. "Why are you doing this to me?"

"Because I have to. Because you are my friend. Because I want you to be safe. Because things won't get better if you throw hexes at them." He sighed deeply and added, "We owe Dumbledore, you know that."

"Yeah, I know," Sirius' voice was laden with acid. "He's made sure all right that we follow him like lambs to slaughter. But Harry, Remus! Harry doesn't owe him anything. It's Dumbledore who's in Harry's debt, more like."

"It is Harry's destiny to kill Voldemort," said Remus. "There's nothing you can do to prevent that!"

"Yeah, but he should know what he's doing!" Sirius shouted, banging his fist against the stone wall. An avalanche of small pebbles rolled down past his hand as the giant winged boar perched at the top of the gate stirred to look at the violent outburst. "He can't just... abuse Harry like this!"

"I know," Remus laid a hand on Sirius' forearm, squeezing gently. Sirius wrenched his arm out of his grip, ignoring the hurt look on Remus' face. Above their heads, the other boar moved with a low rumble, apparently enthralled by the spectacle going on at the gate. Its gigantic head hovered in midair, sharp-edged and angular like the head of a Hebridean Black. "Let's get out of here," Remus murmured and, with a soft cracking sound, both men Disapparated.

~*~

Breakfast was a gloomy occasion. Sirius poked his toast morosely, ignoring Remus who sat stone-faced at the other end of the table, reading The Daily Prophet. After the blazing row that had erupted last night on their return to the headquarters, as soon as the weight of all that had happened had fully burst on Sirius, neither of them had felt much like sleeping. Sirius had locked himself in Buckbeak's room, explaining to the Hippogriff in detail why he was right and Remus wasn't, and Remus had retreated to the library and buried himself in books dealing with the transmigration of souls and magical methods of achieving immortality. He had tried to engage Sirius in a conversation about what he had read and what conclusions he had drawn as to Voldemort's return to strength, but Sirius, usually so eager to discuss Voldemort's possible weaknesses, ignored him so thoroughly that Remus had considered escaping the charged atmosphere by leaving the house and even moving out temporarily. He remained merely because he was afraid that Sirius might do himself some harm.

After Sirius finished maltreating his toast (he had cut the slices into small wizards with tall pointy hats and had then, with the utmost precision, blasted the miniscule heads from the bodies, after having charmed the figures to stalk across the table, waving their tiny wands imperiously), he decided to forgive Remus for being so reasonable and to accept his friend’s offer to think of a plan for helping Harry without enraging Dumbledore.

Sirius had never thought of it before, but in the afterglow of last night's argument, he had come to realise that he was, in fact, scared of Dumbledore. The old wizard put on a good show pretending that he was kind and rather batty, but Sirius admitted to himself at last that Dumbledore could be as ruthless in sacrificing his supporters as Voldemort was. The horrible thing, Sirius thought, was that it had come as such an unexpected blow. He had long known that Harry was destined to kill Voldemort; his fate had been decided as far back as by Harry's birth. But never before had it burst on him with such clarity what exactly it meant for the boy. In order to kill Voldemort, Harry had to face the Dark wizard and, deliberately, perform either the Killing Curse or some other curse that would banish Voldemort's spirit and destroy his remnants forever. In a distant corner of his mind, he had known the confrontation must happen sooner or later, but it wasn't until last night that he had fully understood what such a confrontation would mean. Voldemort wasn't the only one who would get hurt, possibly killed. Sirius shuddered at the idea of his godson's being sacrificed on behalf of the side of Light, and something snapped. He seized his plate and hurled it across the room, sending the headless toast wizards flying through the air. "Fuck it all to hell and back!" he shouted. Remus didn't so much as lift his head.

"Sirius, sit down," he said in a strained voice, leafing through The Daily Prophet. As though he hadn't heard Remus, Sirius continued tossing curses and dishes through the kitchen. Seeing the heavy china with the Black crest shatter at walls and furniture was oddly satisfying. "Sit down!" Remus repeated, more loudly.

"What for?" Sirius yelled. "To continue this farce of a breakfast?"

"I... um, wanted to wait till you calm down, but I see that won't happen in a hurry- I might as well show you now," said Remus, his voice hollow. "Sit down and read this. But, Sirius," he added, passing The Daily Prophet across the table. "Please don't-" He broke off. "Just read it, all right?"

With a horrible sense of foreboding, Sirius took the paper in a shaking hand and smoothed it out; Remus had rolled it so the front page was hidden and, spreading it on the tabletop, Sirius could see why. A large picture of Harry, scowling sulkily, hair untidy, was blinking at him from the page, under a headline that read,

"The Boy Who Lived To Kill

The hero of the wizarding world - unhinged and bloodthirsty?

Harry Potter (15), the Boy Who Lived, has grown into a teenager who no longer knows friend from foe. The Daily Prophet can exclusively report on a gruesome murder Potter committed on an innocent Muggle (60) last night in a graveyard in Yorkshire. Potter, who has been suffering from hallucinations in recent months, believes he was abducted and attacked by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named at the end of last June, and ever since then he has been on a crusade against his phantom enemy. A fellow student of Potter's, who wishes to remain anonymous for fear of revenge, tells us that the Boy Who Lived To Kill has not only been spreading rumours of You-Know-Who's return, but has also verbally abused his Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher and Ministry of Magic official, Professor Umbridge, who attempted to offer him the moral support he obviously requires. "Potter was behaving in a highly aggressive manner," a very shaken Dolores Umbridge tells us in our interview. "I do my best to establish a relationship with my students based on mutual friendship and respect. However, Potter shows no respect for authority whatsoever, nor any remorse about his scandalous behaviour. At times, I was afraid he would attempt to hex me, in which case I would have of course had to resort to defensive spells - a procedure highly discouraged by the Ministry guidelines. I wasn't surprised when the news of the murder had reached me; it is rather surprising it has taken Potter so long to start killing off innocents. The Ministry must act now before it is too late: although Potter's first known victim was merely a Muggle, the next time this deluded youth is likely to go for a witch or wizard."  
Potter was identified without a doubt due to his wand, which was found at the graveyard. The wand, an Ollivander product, was seized by MLE wizards who arrived at the battlefield minutes after the crime had been committed and immediately forwarded it to Mr. Ollivander (101) for analysis. The renowned wand expert testified that Potter had used his wand to perform the Killing Curse - one of the three Unforgivable Curses. As a Ministry insider tells The Daily Prophet, Potter is now facing a sentence in Azkaban.  
Details as to Potter's alleged connection to notorious mass murderer and Azkaban escapee Sirius Black, who is also the boy's godfather, can be found on pages 3, 4 and 16."

With a loud thud, Sirius' head fell onto the table.

"Sirius," said Remus firmly a few minutes later. "Sirius. Look at me. We've got to think-"

"Think?" Sirius said in a horrible voice, lifting his head and looking at Remus from glowering eyes. "Think!? What is there to think about? I will get him out of there even if I have to tear the Ministry down stone by stone!" He jumped to his feet, whipping out his wand, and shot a jet of fire at the newspaper, which burst into flames and turned into a heap of ashes within seconds.

"We," said Remus quietly. "We will get him out of there."

"Are you serious? You wanna help?" Face pale and eyes wild, Sirius braced himself against the tabletop, his whole body shaking. "Because this is it. If we do it, there's no return. We'll be on the run. Outcasts."

"I am. I do." Remus pushed his hair from his face and looked at Sirius, very seriously. "And it's not as though we weren't outcasts already."

"Yeah." Sirius gave a hollow, ringing laugh. "So that's got its advantages, too."

"What about Dumbledore?" Remus asked after a short silence.

"What about him?"

"Do you think we should talk to him?"

"And then what? Ask him whether he'll tell the Ministry that it was Voldemort who was killed? Hah! Yes! The Ministry is likely to believe that!" Sirius spat. "They didn't even believe that he'd come back in the first place!"

"Good," said Remus calmly.

"Good?"

"Yes. Good. The less Dumbledore knows about our involvement, the better our chance of carrying this through successfully." Remus paused and added. "Maybe he'll testify in Harry's favour, though."

"He didn't testify in my favour - then," Sirius said with frightening calm. "Nor in yours, when Snape had you sacked."

Remus nodded. "We'll see it through together. Yes?"

A sudden grin flashed over Sirius' gaunt face. "Yes. For Harry."

~*~

It seemed that Molly was a creature not completely devoid of reason. It had taken a couple of days and several rows until she had come to admit that it made sense for the children to help clean the house of Dark artefacts. Under normal circumstances, Sirius would have had a few words to say about her acting as though it had been her idea all along, but circumstances were even further from normal than usual. Ever since Harry had been arrested, a deadly sort of paralysis had fallen over the house. The children seemed numb and carried out the assigned tasks in a mechanical manner; even Ginny had lost all her fire. She was monosyllabic and subdued and Sirius was sure she was crying every night. Hermione kept tormenting him and Molly and especially Remus with an endless litany of questions, trying to force them to explain the intricacies of the wizarding legal system in a few clear words. After a while, her shrill voice and Remus’ mild smile drove him over the edge, and Sirius snapped. "What makes you think that there is a system, Hermione?" he barked. "Do you really assume that, if there were a working legal system, I would have spent twelve years of my life in Azkaban? Without a trial?" He gave a short laugh, ignoring Remus' disapproving frown, and continued, relishing the pain that his own words caused him: "A couple of old sadistic bastards will say everything they can come up with to put Harry away for life, perhaps even have him Kissed. That's all there is to it, and if you think you can find a solution anywhere in these books..." He made a wide gesture, indicating the shelves in the Black library. "Then you are a greater fool than-" Remus' look finally stopped him mid-sentence, and Sirius slammed his whisky tumbler on the table, splattering the golden-brown liquid in the process, and strode out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him.

"You shouldn't let it out on Hermione, you know," Remus said conversationally, strolling into the room and seating himself on the bed next to Buckbeak. He laid a hand on the Hippogriff's sleek neck and splayed his fingers in the soft feathers. Sirius didn't put down his book, didn't even blink, but the words on the page were meaningless and slipped past his eyes without being processed by his brain.

The crowd fell apart, now, and the Sheriff came through, ostentatiously leading Potter by the arm. The poor fellow's face was haggard, and his eyes showed the fear that was upon him. When he stood before the murdered man, he shook as with a palsy, and he put his face in his hands and burst into tears.

"I didn't do it, friends," he sobbed; "'pon my word and honor I never done it."

"Who's accused you?" shouted a voice.

This shot seemed to carry home. Potter lifted his face and looked around him with a pathetic hopelessness in his eyes. He saw Injun Joe, and exclaimed:

"Oh, Injun Joe, you promised me you'd never—"

"Is that your knife?" and it was thrust before him by the Sheriff.

Potter would have fallen if they had not caught him and eased him to the ground. Then he said:

"Something told me 't if I didn't come back and get—" He shuddered; then waved his nerveless hand with a vanquished gesture and said, "Tell 'em, Joe, tell 'em—it ain't any use any more."

Then Huckleberry and Tom stood dumb and staring, and heard the stony-hearted liar reel off his serene statement, they expecting every moment that the clear sky would deliver God's lightnings upon his head, and wondering to see how long the stroke was delayed. And when he had finished and still stood alive and whole, their wavering impulse to break their oath and save the poor betrayed prisoner's life faded and vanished away, for plainly this miscreant had sold himself to Satan and it would be fatal to meddle with the property of such a power as that.

"I saw Kingsley the other day," Remus continued in the same conversational tone. Buckbeak had closed his eyes and was clucking deep in his throat, twisting his head and neck to allow Remus better access. "He really does like being scratched, doesn't he?"

Sirius dropped his book. "What?"

"Buckbeak," Remus indicated with a slight nod. "I think you're neglecting him. He's not usually this keen to be petted."

Sirius groaned, exasperated. "Moony. For the love of all that's holy. Please stop being an insufferable prick or I'll set Padfoot on you and he'll bite your arse off."

Remus' eyes were very dark and sombre, and he reached out a hand and took Sirius' wrist, tugging slightly. "Albus is not going to testify in Harry's favour," he said in one breath.

A dark fog rose up, obscuring Sirius' vision and clouding his brain. He was falling, beyond numb, beyond feeling anything, but then he felt another tug on his wrist and stretched out his free hand, blindly, to grab a fistful of Remus' robe. "What..." he said, his tongue wooden, "why..."

Remus' voice reached him through the pounding in his ears, soft and steady as ever, anchoring him to reality. He felt an unstoppable wave of anger soar up, fill him out with almost-palpable pain and he had to jump up, to curse, to kill, simply to stop the agony. But Remus' fingers were still wrapped around his wrist, keeping him steady, keeping him in place.

"I know," Remus was saying. "It's... insane. It's beyond insane. I am at a loss for words." He broke off and took in a deep breath. Sirius felt the mist in front of his eyes lift and the room around him getting back in focus. "But it's not as though we didn't expect it, not really."

"Have you told him?" Sirius interrupted harshly. "Have you told Kingsley?"

"I haven't." Remus shook his head and then blew a few strands of hair from his eyes. "I'm not sure what to say, really. Only a short time ago, Arthur and Bill convinced him to join the Order, join Dumbledore... I couldn't really think of anything to say now... We can't afford to lose Kingsley, Sirius. He's a true asset."

"Unlike me, eh, Moony?" Sirius thought, but he didn't say it aloud. It wasn't necessary. Remus knew, and he shook his head again, sadly.

"Don't, Sirius," he said. He let go of Sirius' wrist, but gently, his fingers lingering on the sleeve of Sirius' robe for a few seconds.

"What did Kingsley say, then?"

"He's given me Dumbledore's account... I haven't spoken to Dumbledore myself – couldn't. I'm not sure how I would react, and he might just find out the truth. I can't have him know that we were there, that night."

Sirius nodded. "Go on."

"They're getting ready for the trial. It's a matter of days, the public are gagging for it, not to mention Fudge and Umbridge. Kingsley is one of the Aurors in charge of security. He volunteered."

"So he thinks Harry's a deluded murderer, too," Sirius said bitterly.

"I'm not sure about that. He doesn't seem entirely satisfied with Dumbledore's version of events, but he's reluctant to admit it. Especially to admit it to me, which is quite understandable. Anyway, Dumbledore claims that he was in the graveyard with Harry looking for clues, and then that Muggle man appeared whom Harry mistook for Voldemort."

Sirius gave a strangled half-shout, half-splutter.

"I know... He claims that Harry killed the Muggle before he, Dumbledore, could intervene. Harry, of course, was Confunded at that point. He doesn't remember anything. And the body they found is indeed that of an ordinary Muggle."

"But Voldemort is not dead. He can't be."

"That's what Dumbledore is saying, too." Remus nodded. "He's got a very twisted agenda, Dumbledore. I wish I knew..."

"It's obvious, isn't it?" Sirius leaned in, lowering his voice. "He knows Voldemort is not dead, and he needs those few of us who believe in Voldemort's return to keep believing. He needs us to keep fighting, the Order to keep working, and if that means sacrificing Harry..."

"Yeah..." said Remus, "he sacrifices him for a greater good. But what is there to gain? I mean, he still needs Harry to kill Voldemort.

"Time is what's to gain, Moony, time. Harry's going to be safely locked in Azkaban and, when the time is right, Dumbledore is going to retrieve him... to set him after Voldemort." Sirius broke off and started to laugh. "In fact, it's perfect! In Azkaban, Harry won't forget Voldemort, won't forget wanting to kill him – it's not a happy thought! It's going to become his only goal, an... an obsession. Believe me, I know what I'm talking about."

Remus' face was deadly white, his lips pressed into a thin line.

"We've got to do something," he said.

~*~

"Are you sure you want to do this?"

Sirius pulled his cloak tighter around himself and flipped back his long hair. "Absolutely." He cast Remus a quick glance and said in an undertone, "But you’d better not hang around me when we go inside. I don't want them to have any evidence that you’re connected to this in any way." A derisive snort was Remus' only answer. They were slowly moving forward in the queue of witches and wizards eager to attend the most spectacular trial since the times when Death Eaters had been brought before the legendary tribunal headed by Bartemius Crouch, Sr. The magnificent entrance hall of the Ministry of Magic building was buzzing with the excited murmur of the crowd, the fireplaces on the left-hand side kept spouting Ministry witches and wizards, and right behind them, by the entrance to the Ministry, the old-fashioned telephone box was moving tirelessly, its door opening and closing in quick succession, admitting a stream of visitors into the building. Sirius eyed them with disgust. "Spectacle-seeking hyenas," he muttered under his breath. "They're as ready to sacrifice him now on the altar of self-righteousness as they were to lift him onto the pedestal in the first place!"

On reaching the golden gates, Sirius saw that the security desk was manned not by one but three wizards in peacock-blue robes as well as an Auror in a blood-red uniform. Sirius and Remus presented their wands to the wizard seated at the desk, who examined them carefully with the help of small brass scales and, after attaching small strips of parchment to the wands, put them into a large box perched on top of the desk. "Maximum security," he chanted in the toneless voice of a man who had to repeat the same words over and over again until they lost their meaning. "No wands in the court room. You will receive them back on presenting the receipts when leaving. Next!"

Standing stone-faced beside the desk, Kingsley Shacklebolt gave them a cold, appraising look, and they entered a smaller hall where they joined the queue for the lifts. The crowd pushed forward as soon as the door slid open, and Sirius and Remus were carried along and descended trapped among a mass of bodies. A short witch, who despite wearing high-heeled shoes reached merely to Sirius' shoulder, stood on his foot, ramming the point of her heel into his toes. She noticed it as he hissed involuntarily, lifted her small round face to him, apologised and shifted, replacing her left heel with her right. The door opened at last, and Sirius exchanged a quick glance with Remus, who looked pale yet composed.

When they were ushered into the large dungeon courtroom by harassed-looking Ministry wizards and under the alert eyes of two Aurors who were standing to attention at the entrance (Tonks also looked very pale, but her face was set and determined), Sirius' gaze fell instantly on the chair in the centre of the room, heavy chains coiled around its arms. He closed his eyes and swallowed convulsively as memories flooded over him. He knew that there were Dementors in the building, too; he could sense their foul presence even through walls. He only hoped that they wouldn't be allowed into the courtroom during the trial. Remus moved smoothly through the crowd and disappeared into the shadows, while Sirius made his way to the back row, deliberately staying behind the other witches and wizards so that he was seated at the very edge of the stony bench, right around the corner from where Tonks stood guard by the doorway.

The buzzing murmur rose to an excited crescendo when the side door opened and two tall, grim MLE wizards strode in. Between them - Sirius' stomach clenched and his lip curled up ferociously - a very pale, very frail-looking Harry staggered in. The boy looked dazed, as though he wasn't sure where he was and who these people were who gaped and pointed at him as though he was a particularly rare and dangerous specimen of manticore. He was pushed into the chair and, as the heavy chains curled around his wrists and ankles, he gave a sudden violent shudder. His head snapped up and his eyes seemed to focus for the first time on the room around him. He turned his head sharply to the highest bench, on which the Minister for Magic was seated, surrounded by his executives, all of them dressed in plum-coloured robes. Fudge was eyeing him with barely concealed disgust. Sirius saw Harry's eyes widen in shock as his gaze fell on the witch beside Fudge. Umbridge was smirking maliciously down at him, her pouchy eyes bulging with joyful excitement.

"Harry James Potter!" The words boomed across the room; Fudge had enchanted his usually slightly breathless voice to sound full and intimidating. "You have been called in front of the Wizengamot to be tried for the killing of a male Muggle on 4 November 1995." The pounding in Sirius' ears drowned out the rest of Fudge’s words as the Minister gleefully read the statement of the case. He forced himself to watch his godson's face, which had turned an impossible shade of pale, saw his eyes darting wildly across the room, as though looking for an escape route, saw him catch Molly's eye, as she sat next to a very pale Arthur, her eyes red and swollen, saw his gaze skip the figures of Ron and Hermione who were sitting in the row behind Molly and Arthur together with Fred, George and Ginny and, finally, saw him look back at Fudge with that expression of mingled panic and fury. A wave of burning hatred for that self-righteous moron sitting in judgement on his godson flooded over Sirius and he looked down at his hands - Bill's hands - which were shaking with suppressed emotion.

"Twenty minutes," he thought desperately. "Only twenty minutes more to go."

"Harry James Potter!" Fudge's voice boomed across the room. "Do you have anything to say in your defence?"

Harry's white face was set defiantly. "It was Voldemort! He was there and I fought him-"

A slow smile spread across Fudge's face. "Ah, yesss..." he said, shuffling scrolls of parchment in front of him. "According to our records, you also encountered and fought He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named last July, after which, if I might remind the court, you were also found with the dead body of an innocent man! A pattern is emerging, it would seem!"

Sirius buried his face in his hands.

The urge to turn into Padfoot had become almost overwhelming. He was teetering on the edge of self-control, and he could fall over at any point. But he had to wait, wait just a few minutes longer. He mustn’t incriminate anyone but himself, that was the key to the whole plan – shaky though it was. But with literally only hours to go, they hadn't had the time to come up with something intelligent that would cover all eventualities.

He let the voices wash over him. The presence of the Dementors, sucking at him, weighed him down and made his thoughts sluggish and feeble. He didn't have to listen to know what was said, didn't want to listen, either. Only as Dumbledore gave testimony, pointedly not looking at Harry, did he raise his head. Dumbledore's gaze was bright as ever, and his voice, though not loud, was clear and firm. When Sirius turned his head slightly, he could see Remus' pale profile, set and determined, and he knew that his friend felt as disgusted and incredulous as he did.

A faint twinge somewhere deep within his bones brought him back to reality. Timing was crucial. Sirius stood up and made for the door. He left the court room, exchanging a fleeting glance with Tonks. Outside, Bill Weasley was leaning against the stone wall, standing completely still, as though he wasn't even breathing; he was dressed in a robe identical to the one Sirius was wearing. Apart from him, the corridor was empty, illuminated by a handful of torches. The heavy door fell shut behind Sirius just in time: in the next moment, the change hit him. Bill's red hair disappeared and was replaced by black, his hands became broader and bonier, and Sirius felt his bones and muscles shift. He pressed a hand to his mouth to stifle any sound that might escape him.

It was over very quickly. Accustomed to Animagi transformations, Sirius didn't suffer any side effects from the Polyjuice Potion. Bill was watching him, holding out his wand to Sirius. "Ready?" he asked, as Sirius straightened up and took a deep, shaky breath.

"Ready. And you?"

Bill nodded.

"Okay," whispered Sirius and took Bill's wand.

He balled his hand into a fist and rammed it into Bill's face. The impact onto soft flesh and brittle bone felt immensely and disturbingly satisfying, but Sirius didn't dwell on it. Bill raised a hand to his mouth and spread the blood from his burst lip across his mouth and cheek, turning around to let Sirius bind his hands behind his back. "Ouch!"

"Sorry," Sirius whispered, loosening the knot a bit. "Didn't mean to..."

"No," Bill shook his head. "It's got to look real!"

"Are you sure-"

"Sirius!" Bill's voice held a trace of panic. "There's no time for that now! Hurry!" He dropped to his knees and rolled to the ground, bumping his arm and shoulder hard against the stone wall. Sirius leaned over him and shoved a handkerchief into his mouth. "Thank you," he whispered.

He jumped to his feet and, with a mighty curse, smashed open the door. It flew off its hinges, and Sirius dashed into the court room, shooting a curse at the Auror to his left. On his right, Tonks leapt into action, firing spells and missing him on purpose. Sirius' soul was singing; there was the scent of jinxes in the air, people were scattering, shouting and running heedlessly, and everyone was looking at him as he came to a stop in the very centre of the room, struck a dramatic pose and, pointing his wand at Harry, shouted: "It's Potter! He killed my master! Again!"

It was an impressive tableau, suspended in time for a few precious seconds. Sirius towered over the scene, his wand raised, his robe fluttering in a faint breeze; around him was a sea of faces, frozen in an expression of mingled fear and surprise. Somewhere in the background, flickered Dumbledore's blue gaze. The pull of the Dementors became stronger and stronger as they glided closer, he knew he wouldn't be able to resist it for much longer. But that wasn't necessary; only a few more seconds, and the curses would hit him. Sirius inhaled sharply and added with a flourish: "My master came back to life, I saw him! I helped him! And Potter killed him again!" He spat the last word viciously, brandishing his wand at Harry.

"Expelliarmus!" Bill's wand flew from his hand and Tonks caught it deftly, running towards him. Sirius hesitated, not quite sure whether he should pretend to attack her, but Tonks made the decision for him. "Stupefy!" she called, and Sirius felt merciful darkness embrace him as he sank to the ground.

~*~

Darkness welcomed him again when he regained consciousness. Sirius blinked a few times and then opened his eyes wide, willing them to get accustomed to darkness. He forced himself to breathe normally and to scan his surroundings. Wherever he was, the room was empty of any human or Dementor presence, and Sirius shifted into Padfoot.

The texture of the room changed. The lack of light didn't bother the dog, and it didn't take Sirius long to learn everything he needed to know for the moment. Tonks was somewhere near, her scent was strong and fresh. Apart from her, there was no human presence and hadn't been in a long time. They were in some sort of underground tunnel. The air smelled dry and old, as though it hadn't been stirred in a while. There were very faint traces of the smell of blood and animal, but they were old, decades old, and he decided not to bother about them at present. Sniffing along the walls, Padfoot padded around a corner, following the clear trail that led him to Tonks. She was sitting cross-legged, huddled into her warm cloak, staring into the light of a candle that floated before her. When she heard Padfoot approach, she lifted her head and gave him a faint smile. "Hullo, Sirius," she said hoarsely.

He shifted mid-step and sat down by her side. They were sitting there in silence for a while. Eventually, Sirius spoke.

"What the hell happened back there?" he said with rather more force to it than he had intended. "Why am I here? And where is here?" He broke off, frowned down at her and added: "And what are you doing here, Dora? You should be at the Ministry, launching a Britain-wide manhunt for me. Or better yet, escorting me to Azkaban."

"I am, in a way." Tonks was toying with the hem of her cloak, tugging on some loose threads with nervous fingers. "I was...waylaid."

Sirius eyed her incredulously and then broke out in laughter. "They've put you in charge of me? How could that happen?"

"What? Do you think that I'm incapable of taking care of a criminal?" bristled Tonks.

"If that criminal is me, then yes," Sirius nodded, grinning. "You kinda proved that by not delivering me to the Dementors."

"Well, we couldn't do that, could we?"

"We?" Sirius asked, suddenly serious. "It wasn't your idea, then?"

"Of course not. I could not have managed to pull it off all by myself. Remus was adamant that you weren’t going back to Azkaban, and Kingsley only agreed to help us with Harry if we didn't sacrifice you in his place."

All of a sudden, Sirius' throat tightened and an overpowering wave of affection flooded over him. "You've all gone to such lengths for me?" he asked before he could stop himself. "Really?"

"Don't be stupid," Tonks said, very brightly, "of course we did! We never intended you to end up back in Azkaban - even though you refused to discuss the possibilities-"

"We had to come up with a plan for how to get Harry out," Sirius said. "He's our priority."

"That doesn't mean that you don't matter." Tonks said sharply, but she leaned forward at the same time and laid a hand on his arm. "Harry's not the only one we care for!"

"Thanks," he said. "I'm really, truly..."

She smiled. "I know. It's alright."

Sirius wrapped his fingers around her hand. So pale and delicate, he could break the bones of her hand without any effort. She was a delicate woman, Tonks, barely more than a girl. It was unbelievable that she was a highly trained Auror.

"What is it?" she asked, pulling her hand back. "Why're you smiling?"

"You are my cousin's daughter," Sirius said. "Sometimes, it's hard to believe."

"Yeah, I know." She flashed him a broad grin. "Doesn't bear thinking about." She pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders and propped herself against the wall. There was an air of indecision around her that made Sirius wonder just how well laid-out that crazy plan was that he had become a part of.

"What's happening now? What are we waiting for?"

"Kingsley or Remus is supposed to catch up with us," she said. "But I'm not sure when. They'll have to shake off any possible pursuit. I'm sure they'll manage, eventually. Kingsley is very good at Confundus, and Remus is very good... very good at not being followed." There was something about the way she had said Remus' name that caught Sirius' attention, but there were more important issues to discuss.

"Are you sure that we can trust Kingsley?" And as she frowned at that unspoken suspicion, he added for clarification: "Trust him to go through with it, not trust him to not betray us. I'm sure he wouldn't do that."

"He thinks very highly of Remus," said Tonks, and there was a trace of pride in her voice. "He considers Remus to be the most sensible and level-headed member of the Order – no offence!" she added with a sheepish grin. Sirius waved a hand dismissively.

"None taken. I'm quite aware of my... limitations." He gave a short laugh. "In my more lucid moments, that is."

"And as you know, both Kingsley and Bill wanted to do something about this whole mess. Bill was quite pissed off with Dumbledore, actually. He thinks that trying to appeal to the judges' better nature by explaining to them how confused Harry was, how much he was still in shock after all that happened – that Dumbledore was quite naive if he believed that his argument would make any impression on Fudge. And so am I, in fact. Screw truth and uprightness, Dumbledore should have lied, should have pretended Harry didn't kill that... man."

'He didn't!' thought Sirius madly. 'Dumbledore did! But I can't tell you that, Nymphadora! I've got to keep pretending that Dumbledore is the great, noble protector! Because if we can't trust him, it all falls apart.' He watched her as she continued talking, explaining how she and Bill and Kingsley had opted for action instead of words and how guilty they felt because they had gone against Dumbledore, but he couldn't concentrate on her words. His thoughts were running in wild circles, his body was thrumming with restless energy, and anger was rising up within him like bile: anger at Dumbledore for his betrayal, anger at Tonks for her naive admiration, anger at Remus for his callousness – Remus, who had been clear-sighted and rational, and who had forbidden him categorically to breathe a word about Dumbledore's betrayal to any living soul. 'They've got to trust him, Sirius,' Remus had said. 'You know that. Our belief in Dumbledore is what keeps us all together. We cannot risk exposing him, we cannot risk sowing the seed of doubt in the Order.' And as Sirius had argued against, Remus had added: 'Look. We can't change what happened. But we can use it to our advantage. You and I know now that Dumbledore will do whatever it takes – don't you see what this means? For you, and for me? It means that we don't owe him anymore, Sirius. We are free to do what we think is best.'

Remus was, Sirius realised not for the first time, a manipulator whose capability for exploiting weaknesses was hardly inferior to that Dumbledore's.

He forced himself to breathe slowly and count to ten. It wouldn’t do to lose his temper with Tonks, here and now. He’d have to have it out with Remus when he saw him again.

“Anyway,” Sirius said, looking around and forcing a painful smile onto his face. “Where did you bring me? Where are we?”

“We’re in the catacombs of the old cathedral in Kingsbridge-on-Marsh,” said Tonks, straightening from her slouch. She seemed quite happy about the change of subject. “We were supposed to go north anyway, and Remus thought it’d be a good idea to hide here. It’s an old Order hideout, from the first war,” she added.

Sirius frowned. “A good idea, really? Didn’t Remus consider it possible that Dumbledore or some other member of the Order would come looking for us here?”

“Perhaps it wouldn’t be all that bad if Dumbledore caught up with us,” said Tonks in a voice that carried a pleading edge. “I mean, he knows that you’re innocent. He’d probably be angry that you disregarded his instructions, but he’ll understand.”

She sounded so much like a child that, without quite knowing how, Sirius reached out and pulled her close, holding her tight to his chest. It was heartbreaking the way she placed all her youthful trust, her fate into the hands of men who were lying to her like that. He stroked her hair; little Dora, Andromeda’s little girl. He would give anything to protect her, and he hated himself for dragging her into that insane scheme.

“Your mother has always been my favourite relative,” he whispered softly into her hair. “But even so, she’d have my head on a plate if I ever let anything happen to you.”

She pulled herself away and flashed him a very cheerful grin. “It’s not your job to protect me, Sirius. I’m a grown woman.”

He returned the grin. “And an Auror.”

She nodded. “And an Auror.”

“Speaking of which,” said Sirius, trying to sound casual. “How does Moody feel about all this?”

“We didn’t tell Mad-Eye anything.” Tonks sighed. “He and Dumbledore are close friends. It wouldn’t be fair to drag him in.”

“It wasn’t fair to drag any of you in,” said Sirius.

“We had to do something to help Harry!”

“I know. And I really appreciate it. But I know that you think highly of Mad-Eye and that he’s given you much support.”

“He’s always been a great teacher,” said Tonks. “But this is something I’ve got to do without him.”

“And without any food, apparently,” said Sirius loudly when the silence that had followed Tonks’ words got a little bit too long. “You didn’t bring anything to eat, by any chance, did you?”

She shook her head. “No, there was no time. Are you hungry?”

“Don’t worry about that. I’m sure there are rats around. I can catch us some later.”

Tonks shuddered. “I’d rather starve.”

“Don’t say that too lightly, Dora. You’ll never know what you’re capable of doing rather than starve.”

~*~

He was rather warm and comfortable, curled up in himself in the familiar shape of Padfoot. Sleeping in dog form was a habit that he had not quite broken since Azkaban; it stopped the nightmares. Tonks was lying by his side, almost on top of him, her head resting against his ribs. She had pulled her cloak over them both. It was a safe nest.

There was a shift in the air. Even in his sleep, the dog felt a warm current that floated towards him in a thin, faint line that spiralled around his muzzle and tickled his nostrils. Padfoot cocked his ears even before he woke. Tonks muttered something in her sleep, tossing her head, as Padfoot moved underneath her, trying to shift away without rousing her. She woke up, of course, going from oblivion to alertness within seconds. Her hand was wrapped tightly around her wand even before she opened her eyes. “What is it?” she croaked, her voice hoarse with sleep. “What’s wrong?”

The dog turned his head and licked her over the face with the flat of his tongue. ‘It’s all right,’ said the gesture. He gave Tonks’ face a quick, doggie sniff, rose to his feet and padded off, leaving her cowering on the ground with her wand held aloft.

Sirius forced Padfoot into a casual, unhurried gait. He even stopped himself from sniffing the ground too obviously, in order to not alarm her. The scent was familiar, and it got stronger and stronger the further along the corridor Padfoot advanced. A horrible, stomach-turning suspicion had begun to rise up.

The scent grew stronger. It twirled around him, leading him blindly through the dark corridor. He turned the corner, catching a strong whiff of the scent. There could be no doubt: it smelled of rat. An odour that had haunted him for many years, even in his dreams.

It was heady, almost unbearable now. Sirius suppressed the urge to bark; he focused, transformed in mid-step and, pressing his back against the wall, inched forward and turned another corner.

At that very moment, not twenty yards away, a human hand, holding a lit wand, appeared from behind a pillar. And instantly, that hand was followed by the body; it belonged to Peter Pettigrew. Sirius’ heart leapt into his throat. And suddenly, a great black shadow broke off from the wall, a huge, coiling shape, dark like death but for the occasional flash of its eyes when they caught the light. Voldemort’s snake slithered in Peter’s wake, and the scraping of its scaly underbelly across the cold stone-paved floor sent shivers down Sirius’ spine. His jaw was locked so tight it hurt.

His heart pounding madly, Sirius held his breath. Peter was shuffling closer, muttering under his breath. He seemed twitchy, but not unusually so. Peter had always been a nervous little shit. Sirius stared at him without blinking, waiting, counting in time with his heartbeat. Thoughts were whirling crazily though his head. This was it. He mustn’t fuck it up. There was no time for a plan. Good. He was good at acting on instinct. Every fibre of his body was urging him to jump out, jump at Peter, kill him with his bare hands. He resisted. He counted to ten, and then counted to ten again. Peter was slowly coming closer and closer. The snake slid behind him, then beside him. Sirius licked his lips. He mustn’t alarm Tonks. He looked around, briefly, scanning the dark corridor in his back. She hadn’t come after him. Good. He mustn’t use the Stunning Spell. The bright red flash of light would alarm Tonks. He counted to ten. He raised his wand. Peter was close now, he hadn’t spotted Sirius yet, who had sunk into the shadow, forcing himself to become invisible.

The snake was so close now that Sirius could see its glinting eyes and the flicker of tongue, illuminated by the light from Peter’s wand. Any second now, he would have to attack.

Trembling from head to toe, Sirius breathed in deeply. ‘It wouldn’t do!’ whispered a feeble voice against the blood-red screaming in his head, a voice that sounded suspiciously like Remus’. ‘You can’t take on Voldemort’s snake alone! Think of Tonks! You’ve left her unprotected!’ At once, he cast a quick shielding spell, creating an invisible wall between the woman behind him and the rat before him.

And as though he had conjured it by the power of his thoughts, he felt a sudden rush of magic at his back. His heart skipped a beat. His shielding spell held: Peter and Nagini hadn’t noticed anything, and Sirius whirled around and disappeared around the corner, cursing inwardly. Shifting smoothly into Padfoot, he fell into a brisk run. Instantly, his nostrils caught the scent that almost caused him to let out an inadvertent, joyous bark.

“Remus!” he panted, having reached them slightly out of breath and transformed back into a man. Remus was crouching on the ground by Tonks’ side. She looked pale and nervous. “And Kingsley, good to see you. I’m so glad you’re here.” He cast a quick glance over his shoulder, unnoticed by Remus and Tonks, but caught by Kingsley.

“We should leave,” Kingsley said at once, reading Sirius’ agitation correctly. “It’s not safe here, this place has never been a long-term option.”

“Let’s go,” Remus said, rising to his feet and pulling Tonks up likewise. “I prepared a Portkey, in case any of us would not be up to Apparating.”

He pulled out a Muggle-style plastic cup from his pocket and held it out. Sirius looked around nervously again. He wanted to yell, to tell them about Peter, to run back and deal with the rat. But he mustn’t, not now. The trial, the Dementors, the run, the hunger, the fear... they had all taken their toll. Somewhere deep inside, one rational thought fought bravely to be heard: the thought that he needed to rest, to think and to reconsider. And before he knew what was happening, his hand had grabbed the cup instinctively and he felt the familiar pull just behind his navel.

Cool air hit his face and Sirius spluttered, coughed, took a deep breath. It was night; above his head, he saw a flickering canopy of stars, under his feet, he felt soft grass, and somewhere in the distance, he heard the confused bleating of sheep which their sudden appearance must have torn from their sleep.

“Here we are,” Remus said quietly in the darkness. “We should be safe here.”

“For now,” said Kingsley in his deep, calm voice.

“For now, yes,” admitted Remus. “But I don’t think that anyone will catch up with us tonight or tomorrow. That’ll give us enough time to come up with a plan that will hold up in the long term.”

“What are you saying, that this plan hasn’t been properly thought through?” Sirius said, a crazy grin splitting his face. In the next moment, he was laughing helplessly, laughing so hard that he was almost crying. The others stared at him in disbelief; he could feel it though his skin. He turned round on his heel and stomped off, walking through the high grass in the direction of the bleating. Somehow, the sheep seemed more promising company.

He had forgotten how much he hated sheep. Stupid, smelly, bleating flighty animals, their woolly arses covered in dried shit. Suddenly, he missed Buckbeak. He hoped that Ginny would take good care of him during his absence, the poor, lonely beast, cooped up in that dingy room.

Slumping down onto the damp grass, Sirius wrapped his arms around his legs and rested his chin on his knees. He chewed on a blade of grass, sighed, and chucked a handful of mud at the sheep. They bleated stupidly, running around in blind panic. It’d be fun to transform into Padfoot and chase them for a bit, perhaps nibble on the one or the other leg. Mm... mutton. It had been a long time since he’d had a decent meal. The sheep started to look more and more appealing.

The quiet footsteps behind him startled him from these sweet fantasies. He didn’t look around, bracing himself for the inevitable.

“Looking tasty, aren’t they?” said Remus, coming closer unhurriedly and dropping to the ground beside Sirius, who maintained a sullen silence.

“Sometimes I wish I could simply give in to the blood thirst and rip open a few throats,” continued Remus in the same conversational tone.

“Oh for fuck’s sake!” Sirius threw his arms up and let himself flop onto his back in exasperation. “Don’t do that, not now! I’m too tired to listen to you bollocking around!” He cleared his throat and assumed a husky voice, imitating Remus’ quiet timbre. “Oh, woe is me, I’m such a vicious werewolf at heart, but behold! My self-control keeps me from killing my evil enemies and annoying schoolgirls with a crush on me!”

Remus burst out laughing. “You’re impossible!” He flopped back and lay beside Sirius, giggling uncontrollably for a few minutes. “See any relatives up there?” he asked eventually, indicating the star-strewn sky.

“One or two aunties,” said Sirius off-handedly. “No-one that you’d be interested in.”

“A-ha!” said Remus. “Anything you’d like to talk about?”

“No,” said Sirius. “You?”

“No.”

Sirius nodded and chewed on the grass blade. “Where are we, anyway?”

“Orkney Islands. I think that’s a rather valuable breed of sheep, actually.”

“I think I’m going to have one of them for breakfast,” said Sirius.

“Count me in.”

“What about Kingsley and Tonks?”

“They’ll have to go back. Pretend that you’ve escaped.”

Sirius nodded. “Has anyone thought of any plausible explanation for this mess?”

“We’re working on it.”

Sirius nodded again. “How is Bill? I don’t want him to get in trouble.”

“He’s fine.” Remus gave a short laugh. “Not even the Ministry could accuse a Weasley of being in league with Voldemort and his supporters.”

“How did you give them the slip?”

“It wasn’t all that hard. They didn’t pay too much attention to me. There was nothing that indicated I was in any way involved. They were more concerned about carting you off to Azkaban.”

“And they put Tonks in charge of me?”

Remus smiled at the disbelief in his voice. “I think you’re letting yourself be blinded by appearances,” he said. “Dora is young, but she’s quite capable. She’s not your responsibility, you know, you don’t have to feel as though you have to protect her.”

“No, that’s your job, isn’t it?” said Sirius before he could stop himself.

“Anyway,” Remus ignored him smoothly and continued: “Dora wasn’t in charge of you, Kingsley was. He had to get rid of the other Auror, Dawlish, I think, set up some fake traces and pretend that you’d overpowered them with some sort of sophisticated Dark magic. Dora and Kingsley are discussing the options. We’ve got to come up with something that sounds quite plausible.”

“Dumbledore will know that it’s all crap,” said Sirius. “He knows I’m not a Death Eater.”

“Dumbledore and the rest of the Order,” stressed Remus.

“Yeah, right.”

“Minerva... You’ve got to give me Minerva. She has decided to trust you once and for all, and I don’t think she’ll waver.”

“All right. I give you Minerva.” Sirius grinned. “I actually would love to hear the conversation she’s having with Molly even as we speak.”

Remus gave a brief laugh and said, suddenly quite sombre: “You know that going back to Grimmauld Place is quite out of the question for now, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” said Sirius. “I know.”

“I’m... not sure how this will pan out,” said Remus, casting a quick sideward glance at Sirius. “I guess you’re going to be back on the run again. We’ve got to think of a place where you could go, where nobody - not the Ministry, nor the Order nor any Death Eaters would think of searching for you.” He laughed again. “You seemed to have managed to antagonise all possible parties, Sirius, that’s quite some achievement!”

“Thanks.” Sirius flashed him a grin. “I’m doing my best.”

“But we’ll think of something.”

“’I’ll be fine. I’m quite accustomed of taking care of myself.”

“You don’t have to do it all on your own,” said Remus. “It’s not your fight. It’s our fight, Sirius.”

“I saw Peter.” He wondered, when the words had left his mouth, whether he had spoken at all. The whole of his encounter with the rat, in the surreal semidarkness of the ancient crypt, the sleeplessness and agitation of the days before, the flight to this place at the end of the world – it made him feel as though he were stumbling through a nightmarish dream. He wasn’t even sure any longer that he had really seen Peter. It could all have been just a figment of his fevered imagination. The shadowy figure lurching towards him, with the serpentine body slithering and twisting around it, didn’t seem like something from this world.

“Where did you see Peter, Sirius?” Remus’ voice reached him through the heavy fog in his mind.

“Back there, in the crypt. I saw him when you two Apparated there. He was walking towards me.”

“Are you sure?” Remus’ words were sharp and to the point.

Sirius hesitated. But there was no time for that now. “Yes,” he said, cursing himself inwardly. Cursing Remus for believing him.

“We’ve got to go back and look for him,” said Remus, rising fluidly. “Is that why you wanted to leave so quickly?”

“I didn’t,” said Sirius though gritted teeth. “I wanted to stay and strangle the rat.” He struggled to his feet. Remus towered over him; he was furious.

“Sirius, why didn’t you tell us? This... changes everything!”

“There was no time,” said Sirius. “We had to get out of there... Get Tonks out of there...”

“Oh for fuck’s sake!” snapped Remus. “You’ve got to get over yourself, Sirius. Tonks doesn’t need your protection. She’s quite capable. Stop being such a dog!”

And with these words, he turned on his heel and stalked off in the direction of the Aurors. Sirius hesitated for a minute or two. But he could hardly sulk when the matter at hand was of such crucial importance to him. Cursing under his breath, he followed Remus, making sure to stomp down with every step.

He reached the little group only a few seconds after Remus, who was talking in an undertone. Sirius felt a growl rise up in his throat; it wasn’t Remus’ business to tell them about Peter, it wasn’t Remus’ business to act as the leader. It wasn’t Remus’ business to organise the hunt for Peter. Sirius had lost almost everything he had ever held dear in his life; the hunt for the rat was his, had been his for many years, and he wouldn’t let anyone take it away from him. It kept him sane.

“This is none of your business!” he barked on reaching them. “You can fuck off and leave me alone!”

Tonks glared at him from narrowed eyes, and Kingsley said: “We are leaving. We’re going back to the Ministry with the message that you’ve escaped with the help of Dark magic. Dawlish will prove that we’ve been attacked.”

Sirius’ eyes darted to Remus’ face, which was an impassive mask. Remus had folded his arms across his chest and bent his head slightly so that a few strands of hair fell into his eyes.

“What about Dumbledore?” Sirius asked around his painfully contracted throat.

“We’ll have to tell him the truth,” said Tonks. “He knows you’re not a Dark wizard. He won’t believe that you attacked Kingsley and Dawlish.” She flashed a grin. “I guess Dumbledore will find it quite amusing that you gave Dawlish the slip. He doesn’t like him much.”

“Yeah...” muttered Sirius, still glaring at Remus.

“Will you be all right here?” Kingsley asked Remus, who nodded.

“We’ll set up a shelter, Sirius will hunt us a sheep for breakfast,” Remus said. “He promised me mutton.”

Kingsley nodded. “I’ll be in touch,” he said, before turning on the spot and disappearing almost soundlessly.

Tonks hesitated for a split second, her eyes darting from Remus to Sirius. Following Kingsley’s example, she gave them a curt nod and Disapparated.

Remus lifted his head and looked straight into Sirius’ eyes. “Shall we?”

They Apparated into the same dark, glum chamber which Sirius and Tonks had slept several hours previously. The air felt warmer now; the place no longer dead. The moment his feet touched solid ground, Sirius shifted into Padfoot and sniffed his surroundings. The scent of the rat was as strong as ever. Peter must be somewhere around here still.

He transformed back into a man. “He’s still here,” he said in answer to Remus’ unspoken question. “Let’s go!”

They sneaked out of the chamber. The faintly-lit stone-paved floor led them into the mouth of hell, dark and forbidding. They followed it, stepping lightly and noiselessly. Even in his human form, Sirius was sure he could smell the rat; the stench was ingrained on his receptors, stronger and stronger. He pressed his palm against the cool wall, feeling his way along the corridor. Remus was right behind him, a firm, reassuring presence at his back.

Then there was a faint shimmer of light, and when they took a few more paces forward, they saw where the light was coming from: a small room, barely larger than an alcove. Several candles floated in mid-air, casting their dancing light on the pale, pointed face and watery eyes of Peter Pettigrew, who was sitting on the stone ledge, scribbling furiously on a piece of parchment.

Sirius stopped dead, inhaled sharply. Where was Nagini? He hadn’t told Remus about her, fearing that his sensible friend might try to talk him out of the scheme. It wasn’t fair, but life wasn’t fair, and Remus knew that.

The snake was nowhere to be seen. He let out a sigh of relief and raised his wand. In the very same moment, Peter looked up and his eyes widened in shock; he jumped to his feet, reaching out a hand.

“Petrificus Totalus!”

As though he had walked into an invisible wall, Peter stopped mid-motion, his eyes huge with surprise and terror. Sirius stepped out of the shadows, his wand aloft, grinning broadly. There was a flicker of panic in Peter’s eyes, and then he toppled, gravity pulling on him inevitably, and lost his balance. Behind Sirius, Remus whispered a spell that caught Peter, before he hit the ground and carried him gently towards the solid stone floor. His fall didn’t make any sound.

It had taken only a few seconds. Sirius hurried over to Peter; Remus followed suit, but more slowly, more cautiously. He waved his wand, muttering spells meant to disclose the presence of strangers to them, but all remained quiet. Sirius crouched by Peter’s side, casting a quick muffliato over both of them, and he rolled Peter onto his back. Peter’s eyes were wide with fear, his pupils huge, and Sirius loved it. He loved holding the rat in his hands at last.

“Hello, Peter,” said Remus pleasantly, stepping into the circle of light. He smiled down at Peter, and his smile sent shivers down Sirius’ spine. “Isn’t this nice? A reunion of old schoolmates.”

“There’s no time for that,” Sirius snarled, hauling Peter up by the front of his robes. “We must leave!”

“Is there anything you haven’t told me, Sirius?”

Sirius growled in exasperation. “Not now!” He twirled the petrified Peter around, pointed his wand at him and whispered: “Mobilicorpus!”

“We’ve got to take him somewhere safe!” said Remus. “Somewhere, where we can stop and think. We can’t keep Apparating and Disapparating to and fro like headless cockatrices.”

“Let’s just go,” said Sirius. “Grab the rat’s other arm. We can think later!”

For the second time that night, the bleating of sheep greeted him on arrival. This time, they had managed to Apparate into the middle of the herd and, by the sound of it, to cause several apoplectic attacks.

Peter’s stiff body hit the ground with a dull thud the moment Sirius had let go of him. Sirius shrugged. “What?”

“Nothing, nothing,” sighed Remus. He brushed a few strands of hair from his eyes, regarding Peter thoughtfully. “Here we are, then.”

It was odd; for many years, the thought of finding and killing Peter had dominated all Sirius’ thoughts. But now pthat the rat was actually lying by his feet, he felt at a loss. Killing Peter was quite out of the question now, and he had never come up with a back-up plan.

“Finite Incantatem,” said Remus quietly, pointing his wand at Peter. Peter’s eyes widened and his throat emitted a thin, keening whimper.

“Sirius... Remus...” he gasped. “Please... don’t...”

The sound of this snivelling little voice was enough for Sirius’ blood to boil instantaneously. “Don’t what?” he roared. “Don’t kill you like the vermin you are? Do you think that your pathetic begging for mercy will-”

“Sirius!” said Remus sharply. “Don’t. He’s about to have a heart attack.”

“Remus!” whimpered Peter, directing the gaze of his watery eyes at Remus’ face. “You and I, we’ve always been good friends, haven’t we? You won’t let him...”

“No, Peter,” said Remus. “You and I stopped being good friends the moment you decided to kill Lily and James.”

“I didn’t! I swear, I didn’t want to kill them, James was my friend, he was, and Lily... she’d always been good to me...”

“Shut up!” Sirius, who had been pacing the ground, whirled around, stabbing his wand at the curled up figure on the ground. “Don’t speak of them! Don’t you dare speak of them! You don’t have the right-“

“Sirius!”

“And you shut the fuck up too!” Sirius turned at Remus. “I’m sick of your sanctimonious drivel!”

“And I’m sick of you abusing me whenever you feel lost!” Remus had leapt over Peter’s body and stood nose to nose with Sirius. “I am trying to come up with some plan to fix this mess we’re in! So why don’t you shut up and let me think!”

“What do you think you’re doing?” In a flash, Sirius had stomped down on the hem of Peter’s robe. The little man had rolled over in a desperate attempt to crawl away on his hands and knees, his dirty nails digging deep into the muddy ground. “Stupefy!” Turning back to Remus, he said: “We can’t risk his transforming again.”

“Yes. You’re right.” Remus was quiet for a while. “We’ve... got to calm down. Because we’ll make mistakes if we don’t, and we can’t afford to make any more mistakes.”

Sirius was staring at the man lying by his feet. Abruptly, he turned on his heel and strode off into the darkness. After a few paces, it was the large black dog that fell into a trot, following the pungent stench of panicking sheep.

~*~

“Mmh... lovely,” Remus said, licking his fingers. “Perhaps a little bit too well done on this side. And a little bit too rare on that side. And a helping of mint sauce would have been lovely.”

“I’m glad you like it,” said Sirius. He was lying back on the ground, staring up at the sky. Somewhere in the east, twilight had started to creep in.

“Are you sure you don’t want any?” Remus asked.

“I’m not hungry.”

The taste of blood was still fresh on his tongue. His teeth ached from the effort of ripping apart flesh. The scent of death rested heavily on his palate. It had been easy, and it had been exhilarating, it had been immensely satisfying to be able to simply run and chase and grab and kill.

“I sometimes think that Padfoot was the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” he said. “I’ve got you to thank for that, you know.”

“Hmm...” Remus chucked a bone into the fire and wiped his hands on his robe. “You know this is either very, very narcissistic or rather deranged of you to say. Or a combination of both.”

“I think we both know the answer to that one,” muttered Sirius. “Finished eating yet?”

Remus nodded.

“About time, too. We can’t stay here. It’s getting light. Some Muggle farmer will turn up looking for his sheep.”

Remus waved his wand and, with a few practised swishes, banished the remainders of his meal. “We’ll find a shelter, cast a few Muggle Repelling Spells and get some rest.”

“No.” Sirius sat up abruptly. “I’m done sitting around waiting. We’re leaving at once.”

“Where to? The only people who know what’s going on are Dora, Kingsley and Bill. And right now, we can’t go to any of them. Later, perhaps, when the Ministry has finished interrogating Kingsley, we can try to get in touch with him and perhaps – perhaps! – we can stay at his place for a night or two.”

“And then what?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, after we stayed at Kingsley’s place for a night or two – what do you propose we do then?”

“Well, we would have to find somewhere else to go...”

“And then what? Run and hide again? Hah! That’s more your style than mine.”

“You’ve been running away for quite some time now,” said Remus, irritated. “You should be used to that now.”

“You’re the one who’s running away from things. I run towards.”

The stunned silence that followed these words was filled with the bleating of the sheep, the howling of the wind and the wheezy breathing that was coming from the unconscious Peter.

“What are you running towards right now, then, Sirius?” asked Remus with acidic politeness. “Tell me, pray do, because I fail to see a structure and logic behind your brainless acts of recklessness.”

“The Hog’s Head,” said Sirius.

“Pardon?”

“I think we should go to the Hog’s Head. I’ve always liked that old crank, Aberforth. And it’s no secret that he doesn’t have a high opinion of his brother. He’s not going to hand us over.”

“Have you lost your mind completely? How long has it been since you’ve last seen Aberforth? How do you know what he will or won’t do?”

“For your information, he was quite a good friend last winter, when I lived in the cave and popped by in Hogsmeade every now and then, pretending to be a lovable stray.”

“He thought you were a dog, Sirius. It’s no great secret that he prefers animals to humans.”

“You say that as if it’s a bad thing.”

“Oh Merlin!” Remus rolled his eyes. “On your head, be it.”

~*~

The smell of goats bore down on them heavily. Sirius shuddered all over, gasping open-mouthed. His sense of smell was always stronger after he had been in dog form for a long time.

“Did we have to Apparate into the stable?” he hissed. Remus merely shrugged.

“Where do you propose we should have Apparated to? Aberforth would hardly thank us if a hardened criminal on the run of the law were to manifest himself in his bar.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Sirius stooped down and lifted up the unconscious Peter from the ground. “I’ll wait here with the rat; you go in and explain to Aberforth what happened.”

Remus shot him a look that said plainly he didn’t quite trust him with Peter; but, to Sirius’ surprise, he turned on his heel and made for the door to the bar without a word. His hand on the door handle, he looked back. “Pardon?”

“I didn’t say anything,” Sirius muttered. “Why?”

“Oh, I just thought...”

“Let’s not argue again! Just... go.”

The light assaulting his eyes as Remus opened the door forced him to blink. In the next moment, the door fell shut again, and he remained standing alone in the darkness, holding his wand in one hand and clutching a fistful of Peter’s robe with the other. Goats, he realised, were somewhat more fun than sheep. Aberforth had a point. Instead of bleating madly and running around in circles, they had merely raised their heads and appraised him coolly, before going back to chewing and ruminating. He was pretty sure that the old scruffy goat in the corner, the one who had never stopped chewing, even as it was watching him, remembered Padfoot from his visits the year before, when he had spent many a cold winter afternoon curled up in the hay. It would sometimes come over and nudge him with its nose when he had lain motionless too long. Smiling wistfully at his memories, Sirius acknowledged the goat’s presence with a curt nod in its direction.

Soft footsteps approached the door at the other side, the goats raised their heads, the door was pushed open, and Sirius beheld the tall, slim silhouette of Minerva McGonagall perched on the threshold. A narrow beam of light from her wand fell onto his face, and he squeezed his eyes shut.

“It’s all right,” he said, ducking his head out of the light. “It’s me.”

“I know.” She lowered her wand but remained where she was, staring at him until he started to squirm like the schoolboy he used to be. “What have you been up to this time?”

A heavy load lifted off Sirius’ chest. Minerva sounded exasperated, but not angry. That was something to hold on to. He made a rather helpless gesture, indicating Peter, and opened his mouth to speak. “Look, it’s all a bit-“

She waved him off. “There’s no need. Remus has already explained – and quite concisely, at that.” She stepped aside. “You’d better come in, Sirius.”

The inside of the Hog’s Head was dimly lit and almost empty. Remus was leaning with his hip against the bar, his cloak open, a glass of whisky in his hand. His expression was unreadable. Behind the bar, Aberforth was glaring at Sirius from behind his dirty spectacles. His beard bristled and he kept tapping his wand against the countertop.

“Now, now, now, there’s a turn-up,” he rumbled as Sirius approached him. “If that’s not the notorious Mr Black, gracing my humble inn with his presence.”

Silently, Sirius strode to the bar and shoved Peter’s lifeless form right under Aberforth’s nose. “I didn’t kill Lily and James,” he growled. “He did.”

“I don’t care!” said Aberforth. “What you boys get up to in your spare time is none of my business. That’s my brother’s problem, take it up with him.”

“Oh for heaven’s sake, Aberforth!” said Minerva. “Stop being such a grump! Sirius needs your help, so pull yourself together!”

“Harbouring a dangerous fugitive, is that what you expect me to do now?”

“I’m not-“ Sirius began, but was cut off by Remus.

“Well, technically, you are.”

“What, dangerous or a fugitive?” Sirius asked very politely.

Remus waved a hand impatiently. “Both. That’s not the point. We’ve got to think about what to do next.”

“You’ve been saying this all the time,” Sirius reminded him. “And yet, we never do.”

“No, we never do. And look where this got us.”

“What? We caught Peter, didn’t we?”

“And we’ve got to use him wisely, Sirius,” Remus said. “This is the point where an actual plan wouldn’t go amiss.”

“Perhaps you’d both like to sit down and calm down,” said Minerva, patting the stool beside her invitingly. “Aberforth surely will serve us a cup of tea. And biscuits.”

“I beg your pardon?”

She shot him a steely look. “And biscuits, Aberforth, and biscuits.”

~*~

“Think of it logically and logistically,” said Remus, when they were all seated around the bar, Minerva lifting a cup of steaming Supreme Mugwump Grey to her lips, and Sirius nursing a glass of firewhisky in both hands. He had finally been persuaded to let go of Peter’s robe, but he didn’t feel comfortable at all. He kept glancing down at the unconscious man; he had insisted on binding Peter’s wrists and ankles, remembering all too well what had happened the last time they had got hold of the rat and neglected to take the necessary precautions. “We can’t simply steam into the Ministry, we can’t go do Dumbledore...” He glanced at Aberforth. “To Albus, that is; our options are somewhat limited. Albus knows that it was Peter who betrayed Lily and James, we don’t have to convince him.”

“So, what now?” Sirius put the whisky glass away, folded his arms on the top of the bar and rested his head on them. Now that the hunt was over, he was suddenly very tired. He was dimly aware that, over his head, Minerva and Aberforth exchanged a serious look.

“You boys can rest here.” Aberforth refilled his glass and pushed it towards Sirius, who caught it instinctively. He knew that silent communication had been taking place across the bar, but he couldn’t summon the strength to join in. Instead, he drained the glass.

“Remus says that you were helped by Kingsley and Nymphadora,” said Minerva.

“Yeah, but I was rather hoping to keep her out of this,” Sirius muttered. Somewhere in the distance, Remus snorted.

“Well, you should have thought of this sooner,” said Minerva. “Do you really think Nymphadora would thank you if you shut her out now?”

Sirius caught Remus’ gaze. ‘Told you so!’ it said.

“I’ll go to London straightaway and try to catch Kingsley before he gets to the Ministry.” Minerva slid off the stool and straightened her hat with a determined air. “If anyone’s well-connected in the Aurors’ department, it’s him.”

The heavy oak door slammed shut behind her with a squeak of poorly-oiled hinges. Pointing his wand towards it, Aberforth muttered a spell, and the bolts slid into place.

“I’m glad she’s on our side,” said Remus, twirling the whisky in his glass thoughtfully.

“Hmph!” said Aberforth, polishing the bar with a filthy rug.

Sirius didn’t say anything. He was asleep.

~*~

“You should have told me what you were up to.” Kingsley’s deep, dark voice was surprisingly pleasant to wake up to, even when irritated. “I could have helped. Both me and Tonks could have.”

The words sieved through to his sleep-muddled brain, which processed them reluctantly. Sirius didn’t have to open his eyes to know all about the impatient air surrounding Remus at that very moment. “You had enough on your plate already,” Remus was saying, calmly as usual. “It felt irresponsible to drag you into it even further.”

“Yes, and acting responsibly was obviously very high on your list of priorities throughout this whole escapade.”

“Where’s Harry?” Sirius croaked the moment he got his mouth and tongue under his command. He raised his head with difficulty, blinking, disoriented, and then burst out laughing at the sight of their faces. “You two should see yourselves now!”

“Sirius! We didn’t realise you were awake,” said Remus.

“I’m not.” Sirius looked around, taking in the dusty bottles, filthy glasses, wonky chairs and decrepit tables that surrounded him. On the wall opposite hung a lopsided Hex board, the bull’s eye in the middle blinking stupidly. “I think I’m still asleep and this is a nightmare.” He shook his head, kicking his brain into action. “So, where’s Harry?”

“At his uncle and aunt’s,” said Kingsley. “He was taken back there after you so eloquently testified in his favour at the trial.”

“What?” Sirius roared, jumping to his feet. “Has he not suffered enough yet?”

“It was either the Muggles or the Dementors,” said Remus. “Surely, you realise that the Muggles are the better choice?”

“Barely,” said Sirius. “Where’s Peter?”

“Upstairs,” said Kingsley. “With Albus and a Ministry representative. I’m here to fetch you, actually.”

Sirius stared at him in disbelief. “You’ve simply handed him over? Just like that? Don’t you know that Fudge won’t believe one word of what Peter has to say?”

“He’s not with Fudge. He’s with Scrimgeour.” Kingsley leaned in, looking Sirius up and down. “You better make yourself presentable, Sirius, you look like shit.”

“How very fitting,” muttered Sirius. “Will Scrimgeour believe us?”

“There’s every chance he will. He’s got plenty of experience in dealing with Dark wizards. The first thing he did was looking for Peter’s Dark Mark.”

“Thank Merlin for that!” His knees gave way as a sudden wave of relief washed over him, and Sirius braced himself against the bar, taking in a deep breath. “At last! A competent man!”

“Sirius, listen carefully, please,” said Remus quietly. “Albus is there, too. You mustn’t...” He broke off with a side glance at Kingsley. “Mustn’t hold a grudge against him. He was acting with Harry’s best interests at heart.”

Sirius’ head snapped up, fury flooding in on a red-hot torrent. Remus was looking him directly in the eyes, and his gaze held a clear warning. Sirius gritted his teeth. “Yes, I’m sure he was.”

~*~

Scrimgeour was the same as Sirius remembered from days gone by, only greyer and tougher. He had grown very wiry; Sirius doubted that anything could ever fell that man, who walked with a cane and handled his wand like it was a natural extension of his arm. Next to him, Dumbledore looked harmless and loopy. Two tall, silent Aurors in dark robes lurked in the shadows. Sirius was surprised to see Minerva McGonagall and Aberforth Dumbledore in the room; he supposed she was there to speak up for him, and as for Aberforth, it was likely that he would be damned if he missed the show that was going on under his own roof.

“Sirius Black, at last.” Scrimgeour’s face was an unreadable mask. “You have caused us quite some trouble in the past few years.”

Sirius ignored him, pointing his wand at the bound and gagged Peter instead, who was cowering on the sofa, his face gleaming with sweat, trembling as though in fever. “What’s going to happen to him?”

“I’m asking the questions here,” Scrimgeour said, more sharply. “Please sit down.”

“I’d rather not, if it’s the same to you.” There were few people that Sirius had ever found intimidating, and Rufus Scrimgeour wasn’t one of them. Scrimgeour pointed at the sofa.

“Sit down!”

“I assume Sirius is here as a witness rather than a suspect,” Minerva said unexpectedly from behind Scrimgeour. “Surely, it’s up to him whether he sits or stands.”

Sirius marvelled at Scrimgeour’s self-control. Not even with a slightest twitch of his mouth did he betray that he had lost that first round. He made a mental note to never trust that man.

“Mr Pettigrew has made a full confession regarding his alliance with You-Know-Who.” Scrimgeour shot Peter a cold look and continued: “I’ve also got a testimony, signed by several trustworthy witnesses, that you, Mr Black, have never been in league with You-Know-Who and that your imprisonment was a severe miscarriage of justice, which will be looked into in due course.”

“Fan-tastic,” hissed Sirius through gritted teeth. “I suppose this is the moment when I express my gratitude?”

“Sirius!” said Albus warningly.

“What?” Sirius was reckless and giddy. There was nothing they could do to him, nothing. He was invincible.

“There is, however, the small matter of your appearance at the trial of Harry Potter. I’m sure you’ve got an explanation for that.”

There was no point lying. Sirius shrugged. “He’s my godson. I had to get him out of there, since no-one else would,” he said, looking Albus square in the eye.

Disgust made his stomach turn as Albus returned his gaze calmly, almost sadly. “Sirius, Sirius,” Albus said, shaking his head. “Do you really think that I would have let Harry get thrown to the Dementors?”

“You didn’t exactly do much to prevent it! As far as I remember – and it’s not something I’m likely to forget – you stated that Harry killed an innocent Muggle, not Voldemort.” A collective wince ran through the room at the sound of Voldemort’s name. Sirius rolled his eyes. “Oh, get over yourselves!”

“That’s not... quite true, Sirius,” said Albus calmly. “The man Harry killed-“ Sirius flinched on hearing the bare-faced lie rolling so smoothly off Albus’ tongue. “That man was not Voldemort. That man was an innocent Muggle whose body Voldemort’s spirit was temporarily inhabiting. After he had been killed, the spirit was freed – it wasn’t destroyed. It wasn’t Harry’s fault. He wasn’t to know.”

“How did he know it was Voldemort’s spirit without anyone telling him?” spat Sirius, unable to restrain himself.

“You’re forgetting, Sirius, that Harry and Voldemort share a special connection. By marking Harry as a baby, Voldemort has linked himself to him.”

Scrimgeour clicked his tongue impatiently. “Not that old tale again. You-Know-Who was killed and destroyed when his Killing Curse backfired fourteen years ago. There is no evidence that he’s back now. In fact, if I might remind you, you and Mr Potter both claimed only a few months ago that You-Know-Who had performed a Dark ritual to regain a body. And now you’re telling me that his spirit inhabits random Muggles? No, that won’t stand. However!” he raised a hand to quench the protest that Sirius was about to utter. “However, we did find evidence of Dark magic on the spot where the Muggle man was killed, as well as on the body. So it would seem that Mr Potter did not, indeed, kill an innocent Muggle, but a man who was a puppet of Dark wizards. Mr Potter will have to answer for using underage magic, of course. But this is none of the Auror office’s concern.”

“What happened to the body, Rufus?”

Scrimgeour stared at Albus from narrowed eyes. “Now, that is very much of the Aurors’ concern. None of yours, however.”

“Did it disappear?” And when he received no answer, Albus nodded. “You see, Rufus, this is not over. Voldemort is back, and he needs a body, a body that is neither dead nor alive, that he created for himself using Dark magic. This is why he claimed it.”

“Didn’t you just say that it was a Muggle’s body he was inhabiting temporarily?” They all looked around in surprise at the sound of Aberforth’s gruff voice. For a split second, Albus looked furious, but he composed himself instantly.

“And by using it, he marked it as his,” he said. “This is how Voldemort operates, Aberforth. He’s a parasite, feeding off others and turning them into his tools.”

“You seem to know an awful lot about all this,” said Aberforth, and Sirius noticed that Albus couldn’t quite suppress shooting a quick glance at the tall portrait of a blonde girl that hung over the mantelpiece.

“I have dedicated my life to the fight against Dark magic, as well you know,” Albus said pointedly, glaring at his brother.

“So you say.” Aberforth’s body was taunt, his fists clenched. He took what looked like an involuntary step towards his brother. Minerva’s arm shot out. She laid a hand on his sleeve, just touching it slightly, without applying any pressure. Sirius saw Aberforth take a deep breath and relax back into his former stance.

“All this, too, will be subject to a full investigation. It has, however, nothing to do with you. We’ve got all the statements we require.” Scrimgeour turned around and nodded at the Aurors in the shadows. They stepped up to the sofa, pulled the trembling Peter up by his robe and dragged him out with them. A sudden pang of pain shot through Sirius; this was, he realised with sudden clarity, the last time he would see Peter, and it was not joy and relief that he felt, but deep and utter grief.

Scrimgeour handed Sirius a roll of parchment. “This is your testimony,” he said. “Read it carefully and sign it, if you please. This makes you a free man. I would, however, strongly advise you not to show yourself around too much. The wizarding community is rather in a state of agitation at the moment, and we don’t want things to boil over.”

“So, what, am I supposed to go in hiding again?” Sirius snarled.

“Just keep a low profile, Mr Black, until you are fully and officially acquitted and until people come to terms with the idea that you’re innocent,” said Scrimgeour. “I’m sure you can manage that.” He took up his travelling cloak and swung it over his arm. “That will be all for now. Good day to you all.”

Silence, dead and complete, fell after the sound of Scrimgeour’s steps on the stairs faded. The four people in the room avoided each others’ eyes. Sirius wanted to shout, to hex, to poke Dumbledore in the eye with his wand. At the same time, he felt stunned, as though he would never be able to move his arms and legs again. He stood rooted to the spot, shivering. There was no triumph or relief in his soul, only a horrible blankness.

Aberforth was the first one to stir. “I think we all could to with a short one,” he said, pointing his wand at a rickety old coffee table. Four full glasses appeared from thin air.

Heavy footsteps and the creaking of the stairs announced the arrival of Remus and Kingsley, who had been waiting downstairs. They rushed into the room, looking around at the faces of the people surrounding them. “Well?” Remus asked at last. “What happened?”

Aberforth waved his wand again and two more glasses appeared; he sent them flying towards Remus and Kingsley. “Drink up, all of you!” he said. “You can argue afterward.”

“We’re not here to argue, Aberforth,” Albus reprimanded him.

“Oh for fuck’s sake!” Aberforth emptied his glass in one go and slammed it back on the table. “Shut up, will you?!”

Sirius ignored that explosion of brotherly feelings and turned to Remus instead. “Where is Dora?”

“She’s in Surrey, with Harry,” Kingsley explained. “She and Mad-Eye escorted him to the Dursleys’ to await the verdict. I imagine they’ll be escorting him back to Hogwarts now that he has been cleared.”

“Why did you lie in court?”

The air went out. The whole room held its breath. Sirius couldn’t believe his ears; he was staring at Remus, who had asked the question sharply, confidently, never avoiding Albus’ gaze. Sirius couldn’t imagine what was going on in his friend’s head. Remus was the last person on earth he would have expected to assume such tone to address Albus Dumbledore.

Even Albus seemed taken aback. He blinked rapidly in surprise, but recovered almost at once.

“I appreciate your concern, Remus,” he said. “But I, too, want only the best for Harry. I have done everything I could to protect him.”

All blood drained from Remus’ face. Sirius watched his friend turning paler and paler as he listened to Albus’ explanation without another word. The same expression of disbelief was also firmly etched on Aberforth’s features.

“Having the boy thrown into Azkaban is your idea of protecting him, is it?” asked Aberforth. “Interesting.”

“The Ministry are not the only ones Harry needs protecting from,” continued Albus. “You are all forgetting the Death Eaters. What do you think would have happened when they believed that Harry had killed their master? Every single Death Eater would be after his blood.”

Aberforth snorted incredulously.

“And by stating that Harry had nothing to do with Voldemort’s disappearance, I protected him from their wrath and their vengeance.”

“But he would have rotted in Azkaban!” snarled Sirius.

“No!” said Dumbledore sharply. “That was never an option. I would have made sure to keep him out. The Wizengamot would not have pronounced him guilty, had I been allowed to say everything I had to say. But I was sadly prevented from that,” he said, looking at Sirius over the rim of his spectacles, “by the rash and imprudent actions that you have thought out between yourselves. I don’t blame you!” He raised a hand to silence them. “I know you did what you thought was right for Harry, I know you love that boy, Sirius. But I just wish you had trusted me.”

With these words, Dumbledore suddenly twirled around and tapped one long finger against the frame of the picture over the mantelpiece. It sprang open, revealing a tunnel. Swiftly, before anyone could summon up the right words or the courage to speak, he climbed up and walked away along the tunnel.

The picture closed behind him, and the blonde girl smiled down at them serenely. Aberforth gave a low whistle.

“Guilt-tripping, eh?” he said. “One of my brother’s specialties. Never mind. He won’t ever mention it again. Very pointedly not mention it.”

“Aberforth, how can you!” Minerva’s grey eyes flashed up with sudden flame. “I’ll never understand how you can speak of Albus like that!”

“No? Well, let me explain, then!” said Aberforth, his voice rising. Sirius caught Remus’ and Kingsley’s eyes and, turning on their heels abruptly, all three men made for the door, leaving Minerva and Aberforth to continue their exchange of opinions undisturbed.

“I suppose we should have trusted Dumbledore from the very beginning,” Kingsley said darkly when they had reached the inn downstairs. “He’s always got a plan worked out. I just wish he would share his plans with us from time to time.”

“Ye-es...” said Remus. “That would be nice...”

Kingsley frowned at these words, but didn’t comment. “I’m off,” he said. “What a mess. I’m going back to the Ministry. See you at headquarters, I suppose.”

~*~

“Sirius,” Remus turned to face him when they were finally alone. “Do you think-“

“I know what I saw, Moony!” Taking two long strides, Sirius came to stand face to face with Remus, jabbing him in the chest with his finger. “And you saw it, too! And it wasn’t what Dumbledore said happened! So don’t tell me that you believe him!”

“That’s not what I was going to say at all.” Remus took a step back and pushed his hair out of his eyes. “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to trust Dumbledore again, not the way I used to trust him, anyway.”

“Good!” snarled Sirius.

“I believe him if he says that he wants to protect Harry, though,” Remus continued pensively. “He still needs him – remember? The prophecy pinpoints Harry as the one who will have to destroy Voldemort.”

“Sod the damn prophecy!”

“I wish I could! But that won’t make it go away.”

“We should make a pact,” Sirius said suddenly. “You and I, Moony.”

“What?”

“A pact. We’ve got to swear to never betray each other.”

“An Unbreakable Vow?”

“No. We’d need a bonder for that.” Sirius rushed forward, dragging Remus’ behind him. “We’ll go to the Shrieking Shack and make a pact... and... sign it with blood.”

“Are you mad?” Remus pulled himself free. “That’s an absolutely insane idea!”

“I know.” Sirius had stopped dead and was looking at Remus from serious eyes. “But I need something... some symbolic gesture, to hold on to. Because I get lost. In my head, I get lost. And I need to hold on to something, even though it’s just a stupid idea, to remind myself of what I can rely on. And I want to rely on you, always, because this isn’t over.”

“No,” admitted Remus quietly. He reached out and touched Sirius’ arm. “No, it has only just begun.” With his other hand, he opened the back door, letting in air and sun into the dim room. “Let’s go, Sirius. We’ve got a pact to seal.”

They stepped outside, into a court squeezed between the back wall of the Hog’s Head and the neighbouring house. A goat poked its head out through the stable door, sniffing the air. Everything was normal, and Sirius shivered.

“We should sign it with blood, you know,” he said.

“No, we shouldn’t.” Remus shot him a quick glance. “You’re not being serious, are you?”

Sirius grinned and then, at the sight of Remus’ suspicious frown, laughed out loud. “I’m not, actually. Don’t worry. I’m not that far gone.”

“Oh, good.” Remus stared at him from narrowed eyes. “That’s a relief.”

“Don’t you trust me?”

“With my life.”

Sirius nodded. “Good. That’s good.” He pulled up his shoulders, still shivering from excitement and exhaustion. “Do you mind walking to the Shrieking Shack? I don’t think I’m up for Apparating.”

“Fine.” Remus watched him transform and then reached out a hand and petted Padfood’s shaggy fur. “Good boy!” he said, and there was laughter in his voice. Sirius barked in indignation, but his tail was wagging. “Come on, heel!”

“We should go and see Harry later,” said Remus, strolling down the lane that led out of the village and towards the Shrieking Shack. Padfoot trotted by his side, straying away every now and then to burrow his nose in the ditch or snap playfully at leaves that were carried on gusts of wind. He stopped and turned to Remus, barking his agreement. A ray of sun fell through the treetops and onto his fur. He wasn’t scared. Life didn’t get much better than that.


End file.
